Steele Shadowed by the Past
by Mrs.bdp3
Summary: A dangerous man from Remington's past emerges from the shadows, then blackmails Steele into a scheme that will threaten the agency, the Steele marriage, possibly their lives. I have changed Chapter 8 slightly and am furiously working on Chapter 9, I promise. If you don't like, please don't read and review.
1. Chapter 1

This story takes place after the fifth season. It also presumes that Laura and Remington were married again in a ceremony that included family and friends. I do not own them and this story is not meant to infringe on the rights of those who do. I am not making any monetary gain from this: it is for entertainment purposes only. Feedback is always welcome.

**Steele Shadowed by the Past - Part 1**

Laura Holt Steele closed the last case file and sat back in her chair. The glass topped dining room table and contemporary chair were not the most comfortable substitute for a desk and the hours she had spent hunched over paperwork had taken its toll. She rubbed her neck and lifted her shoulders up and down to relieve some of the tension then stopped. Why do this herself when Remington gave the best neck and shoulder rubs she had ever experienced? Laura scanned the living room for her husband. The last time Laura had looked up from the paperwork, Remington had settled on the sofa, his fingers locked behind his head. 'Casablanca' was showing tonight and he never missed a chance to see it but he had turned down the volume on the TV so he wouldn't disturb her. Now the TV was dark and silent and the sofa was empty. But the lights had been dimmed and the gas logs in the fireplace had been lit. She also thought she heard the faint sound of sniffles. Laura stood up.

"Rem?" She moved through the dining area.

"Here, Laura--"

Her Mr. Steele was reclining in front of the hearth, a glass of wine in one hand. Another glass was on the coffee table, apparently waiting for her. He had unfastened the top two buttons on his shirt and loosened his tie, giving him an appealing disheveled look. Remington was staring at the pocket watch in his other hand, the soft notes of When Irish Eyes are Smiling' emanating from the time piece he had received-again-from his father. Laura moved over to him and saw the contents of an envelope he had received at the office today scattered all over the floor. More of Daniel's papers.

"Are you okay?" Laura asked softly, her own discomfort forgotten.

He looked up at her and, in the dim light of the fire, she saw tears glistening in those incredible blue eyes of his. But, as he usually did when intense emotions threatened to overwhelm him, he fell into his glib, con man persona.

"Finished with the paperwork, are we? Ready for my signature, no doubt. Lead on." He put his wine glass down and started to lever himself up, but Laura pushed him down again. She settled next to him.

"It can wait. What is it, Harry?" Laura used the name his father had always called him out of self defense' he had always said, hoping that would open the floodgates of emotion she could tell her husband was holding back. He was getting better at expressing emotions, even though she knew he would never be totally open- and she accepted that after years of trying to break down his walls. It was just too ingrained in him to hide his feelings, due to his terrible childhood. Laura knew his current emotional state was somehow tied to Daniel-that was obvious from the watch and the presence of the estate papers. It had only been almost six months since Daniel's death and Remington was still dealing with the loss of his mentor-and the fact that same mentor had been his long, lost father. Laura waited patiently through the long silence after her question, using the time to pour a glass of wine and sip at it while Remington gathered his thoughts. Finally Rem sighed, put the watch back in his pocket and said softly.

"I picked up the phone to call him tonight, Laura. Then I remembered-" his voice trailed off and broke slightly. "He's gone-he's gone forever." His shoulders shook with unshed tears. Laura gathered him in her arms and comforted the lost, abandoned little boy inside him. He clung fiercely to her as if he was afraid she would vanish, too. She had no idea he had been in such emotional pain.

"Why didn't you come to me?" Laura asked, burying her fingers in the silky hair brushing his collar.

"You were busy. I-I didn't want to burden you." When he had regained some composure, Remington lifted his head and scrubbed his face with his hand. "I'm sorry-"

"There's no need to apologize. I know you miss him. And you could never be a burden. Seeing you in pain hurts me. I want to be here for you, Rem. Anytime. For anything. Okay? That's what partners are for, right?" She leaned in to seal that promise with a kiss. "So did you find anything of interest in his papers?" she nodded toward the floor.

Remington shook his head. "Most of it is correspondence his solicitor could have destroyed as well as I can. I'll keep the letters he sent me over the years-and, of course, the letters my mother and Daniel wrote to each other. I feel-closer to her when I read them. But still no birth certificate." His voice broke again.

"I'm sorry." Laura put her head on his shoulder, nuzzling his neck. "But the letters are part of your legacy-and our children can know their grandparents through them, too."

"Our children, eh? Are you trying to tell me something, Mrs. Steele?" His blue eyes twinkled with amusement, but Laura also saw a hopeful gleam.

"No, I'm not pregnant. When the time is right, we'll start our family."

"Our family. I like the sound of that." Even though he had expressed doubts about his ability to be a good father, Laura knew he longed for a family he could call his own since he never had one growing up. She had no doubts at all he would be a wonderful parent." But you know we really haven't ever discussed children. Between the rush of our tuna wedding' and the real one, and the case load at the office, we haven't had much time."

"I know. I want children, too, Rem, but not right away. A couple years down the road, perhaps? We need time to adjust living with each other before we bring a baby into the picture."

"And in the meantime, we can practice, eh, Laura? It'll take lots and lots of practice-" He leaned in to fasten his lips to hers in a long warm kiss full of sensual promise. Remington slid a hand up to the first button on her blouse and deftly unfastened it. His mouth moved across her cheek to her ear where his warm breath stirred the short hairs around it as he whispered, "You have entirely too many clothes on, Mrs. Steele. Shall I relieve you of them?" His hand made short work of unbuttoning her blouse and he pulled it from her body. His blue eyes darkened with passion at the sight of her cream colored teddy now in view. He reached for the zipper of her skirt, but she stayed his hand.

"No, Mr. Steele. I have a new frothy confection that I think you'll like. Bring the wine and I'll- meet-you-in-the-bedroom." she nipped at his lips between each word, then, after one last long kiss, Laura rose from the floor and disappeared into the bathroom. She quickly pulled off the rest of her clothes and slipped into a silk nightgown with lace inserted in strategic places. Then she took her pill, brushed her teeth and spritzed herself with perfume-a scent she knew her husband liked. Laura left the bathroom and returned to the bedroom. The lamp on the nightstand was on and the wine bottle and glasses were standing next to it. Remington was lying under the covers, his back to her-his bare back as he usually slept in his pajama bottoms-or was he naked, waiting for her? Laura tingled at the thought and moved over to the bed. She slid under the covers.

"Um-Rem, I'm back." She said, wrapping her arms around him and snuggling close. Laura was a little disappointed when she felt the silk of his pajama bottoms against her skin, but decided it would be more fun to undress him. But he hadn't stirred so she whispered his name again. When there was no response this time Laura levered herself up on one elbow and looked over his shoulder.

He was sound asleep.

Laura smiled as she planted a kiss on his forehead. The busy day at the office and the intense emotions of tonight had taken their toll on him.

"Sweet dreams, Harry." She murmured. Then Laura turned off the lamp, settled next to him and promptly fell asleep also.

Laura was awakened early the next morning by warm, wet lips planting kisses on her shoulder and back. Smiling, she turned her head to look at her husband over her shoulder.

"A little nibbling before breakfast, Mr. Steele?" she teased.

"Actually I prefer to think of it as breakfast in bed, Mrs. Steele. You did say something about a confection last night." Remington nudged the thin spaghetti straps of her nightgown off her shoulders, causing the bodice to fall and revealing her firm breasts. He gently pushed her over on her back and made easy work of stripping the nightgown from her body. Then his hands and lips began a hungry search of every inch of her, it seemed, leaving Laura a quivering mass of desire and need. Laura pulled his pajama bottoms from his body and paid him in kind, stroking him until she saw the tell-tale squinting of his eyes that indicated he was close to completion. She welcomed him into her body, amazed as always how well they fit together and they raced toward the peak, soaring higher and higher until they both surrendered to the shattering climax. Afterward they lay tangled in each other's arms and fell asleep again until the alarm went off.

His dark hair still wet from his shower and dressed in navy blue trousers and socks, Remington came into the bedroom later that morning and slipped into a light blue shirt. Then he pulled open the mirrored door of the closet to pick out a tie and a suit jacket. He frowned when he couldn't find the jacket he wanted. Fixing his tie as he went, Remington moved into the living room.

"Laura, have you seen my blue jacket?" he called-at almost the same moment he spotted it draped across the back of the sofa where he had left it yesterday. "Never mind, love, I found it." He shrugged it on and patted the pockets as if looking for something. He heard the distinct sound of crinkling paper. Remington reached into the right pocket and pulled out the note he had absently stuffed there. He frowned when he read it again.

The Shadow is on the prowl. Watch your back, Harry. Daniel.'

The Shadow. A name he thought was firmly planted in the recesses of his past. A name he could easily have waited a hundred years without hearing again. A name that could still strike fear in his heart. He closed his eyes against the memories that came flooding back. Angry words. An explosion that rocked the waterfront. The seemingly endless interrogation.

Remington stuffed the note back into the pocket and finished tying his tie as Laura came back into the living room from the kitchen.

"Ah, Laura, you are a vision of loveliness this morning." His blue eyes swept down her trim body and beamed with approval at the oatmeal colored knit dress she wore. Her brown hair tumbled freely to her shoulders, unhampered by barrettes or pins today. It was a look he particularly favored.

"Thank you." She moved over to him and straightened the lapels on his jacket. "But you seem to be slipping, Mr. Steele. Wearing the same jacket two days in a row? Tsk-tsk. What would your tailor think?" she teased as her hands slipped down his side and she slid her hands into the pockets of the jacket to pull him closer. Her fingers encountered the note and she drew it out.

"What is this?" She read the two lines and looked up at Remington, a worried frown creasing her forehead. "What does it mean? It seems to be written in code."

"Very perceptive of you, Laura. Daniel and I used that code to communicate with each other after one of our-business deals. The shadow refers to the shadow of a sundial, denoting the time we were to rendezvous. On the prowl meant midnight. On the loose meant noon. Lurking meant six a.m. and so on." His explanation was only a half truth. The note was written in code, but it had nothing to do with sundials or time. He hoped Laura would buy his account of what the codes meant and cease her prying.

"And what about watch your back?"

"Merely our way of telling each other to be careful-much the same as we use it."

"Where did you get this?"

"It was with the papers from Daniel's solicitor." He was stretching the truth here, too. The note had not actually come in the same envelope as the other papers, but in a separate one- special delivery-with no return address. But it had come in the mail on the same day as the other papers. "You will notice it was dated seven years ago." He tapped the top of the note. "It was undoubtedly left over from our last-business deal before I came to Los Angeles."

"So there's nothing else to it? I mean it sounds ominous." This was it. If Remington didn't convince her now, he had a feeling Laura would continue to dig until her curiosity was satisfied.

"I assure you that's all there is."

"All right. But if I find out there's more to it-"

Laura, you cut me to the quick." He patted the front of his shirt, the nervous gesture hiding his relief. "Such a suspicious mind."

"Occupational hazard, Mr. Steele." Laura raised herself on tiptoe and kissed him. "Go eat breakfast. I'll call Fred-and brush my teeth."

Laura disappeared into the bedroom and Remington moved to the kitchen. For a moment Remington considered destroying the note, then thought better of it. The note- and the envelope in which it had come which was still in his desk drawer at the office-might still yield some clues.

"Morning, Mildred. How are you this fine morning?" Remington cheerfully greeted Mildred, their receptionist cum mother substitute as he and Laura walked into the office. He tapped the top of her desk.

"Morning, Boss. Mrs. Steele. I'm in the pink. Bowled a 275 game last night so I'm ready for any comers in the tournament tomorrow night."

"Splendid. When is our first client due to arrive?"

"Ten o'clock. Mr. Mellenkamp, the upholstery king of greater Los Angeles."

"Another security contract?" he wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Really, Laura, must we?"

"They're the bread and butter of this agency, Mr. Steele and a welcome change from murder and mayhem."

"I suppose. Well, then, bring in my tea and newspaper, Mildred. I have some phone calls to make before our client arrives." Rem headed for the red door of his office.

"Phone calls?" Laura was immediately on her guard. "I hope they're all local calls. Our long distance phone bill last month was atrocious. Who will you be calling, Mr. Steele?"

He stopped to glance at her. "The usual suspects. My tailor. My barber. The maitre'd at Le Paris. Will you join me for lunch, Mrs. Steele, say around 12:30?"

"I'd be delighted." Laura visibly relaxed and headed for her door. "I'll be in my office. Buzz me when Mr. Mellenkamp arrives."

The two detectives disappeared into their respective offices, but Remington sneaked back into the reception area a few moments later. He moved over to Mildred who was just bringing in his cup of tea from the storage/break room.

"Mildred, I need you to run a name through your computer-Interpol, the works."

"What's the name, Boss?" she handed him his cup of tea and the newspaper and sat down at her desk. Her fingers were poised over the keyboard.

"Columbini-Eduardo Columbini." Mildred typed in the name. "And please keep this just between us. Laura doesn't need to know anything about it."

"A hush-hush case, huh?"

"Exactly, Mildred. Bring the print out to me as soon as it comes off the printer."

"You got it, Chief." Mildred turned her attention to the screen. Remington moved back into his office and sat down at the desk. But, instead of opening the newspaper as he usually did, he took a sip of tea and reached for the phone. Between Mildred's computer search and his contacts, he hoped he would solve the mystery of the Shadow.

Half an hour later he hung up from the last call and frowned. Remington hoped Mildred was having better luck than he was. None of his former colleagues seemed to have heard anything about the mysterious Shadow. He took the note from his pocket and retrieved the envelope from his desk drawer. Placing them in front of him on the desk, he studied them both for a moment, then he picked up the envelope and turned it over. His eye caught on what appeared to be another postmark. As he examined it more closely, the intercom buzzed. Startled, as if he had been caught, Remington stuffed the envelope into his inside pocket and swept the receiver of the phone up to his ear. "Yes, Mildred? Is it time for Mr. Mellenkamp?" he glanced at his watch. It registered 9:30.

"No, Boss. There's someone else here to see you." There was an undercurrent in her tone that he had never heard before and his frown deepened.

"Can't Laura see him?"

"I don't think so, Mr. Steele. You'd better handle this one. He says he's your son."


	2. Chapter 2

This story takes place after the fifth season. It also presumes that Remington and Laura were married in a real ceremony that included family and friends. I do not own them and it is not meant to infringe on the rights of those who do. It is for entertainment purposes only and I am not making any money from this. Feedback is always welcome.

**Steele Shadowed by the Past - Part 2**

"My son? Mildred, that's absurd. I have no son. The boy is obviously running a con-" He heard the phone being taken from Mildred and Laura's deadly calm voice came through the wires.

"Mr. Steele, get out here right now-please."

Oh, great, Remington thought, this impostor had even fooled Laura. Sighing, he hung up the phone and went out into the reception area. He was greeted by an icy glare from Mildred and a stone faced Laura who was obviously furious with him. The other occupant of the room was a tall, handsome young man with black hair and blue eyes similar to his own-about seventeen or eighteen, Remington would guess. And the young man looked enough like him to pass for his son. But that was impossible. He would have only been 16 or 17 when he fathered the boy and he had been so consumed with his anger at the world there had been little room for anything else, even a woman. No, this was obviously a ruse. He had run enough of them himself to recognize it for what it was. Laura pushed herself away from Mildred's desk and made the introductions. "Mr. Steele-Remington-this is Sean O'Connor-your son."

The two men eyed each other warily, then Sean extended his hand. But, instead of shaking it, Remington twisted it behind Sean's back, causing the young man to yelp in pain.

"Okay, mate, what kind of con are you running here? You and I both know you aren't my son."

"Do you remember Erin O'Connor? She was my mother." Sean's accent was unmistakably Irish.

At the name Remington loosened his grip on Sean's arm and blanched. Laura noticed her husband's reaction and gasped. Oh, dear God, then it could be true, she thought as she closed her eyes against the stab of pain piercing her heart. She had been hoping against hope that her husband would not recognize the name and they could send the young man on his way.

"Erin?" he croaked hoarsely. Erin. The shy sprite of a girl with eyes as green as the Irish countryside and auburn hair who was the upstairs maid when he had come to live with Daniel. She was the first person who had really listened to him-about his hopes-his dreams. And there had been that one autumn day in the hay loft when their necking had turned into full blown lust. Before Daniel broke up their friendship. He had more sophisticated ladies in mind for his protege, not a common maid. And then Erin's family had moved away. Oh, God, could that have been the reason-because she was pregnant with his child? No, that was impossible. He couldn't have a son. The thought of history repeating itself - of another unwanted child having to fend for himself --was just too much to bear. And he didn't dare look at Laura. God, what was she thinking about all this? "Your mother, how is she?"

"She's dead." Sean said flatly. "Four months ago. She gave me this just before she died-" he continued, holding out his hand to Remington.

"Oh, my God." Mr. Steele gasped when he saw what was in Sean's palm. The locket. The locket he had given Erin on her fifteenth birthday. He'd had to go back to picking pockets for a while to get the money to buy it for her because he knew Daniel would not have given him a quid. He took the locket from Sean and looked inside for the engraving. It was faded with age, but there is was: E.O. from J.T. He had been using the Johnny Todd moniker when he met Erin. Remington opened his eyes to look at Sean and tears stood in his eyes. "Sean, I-I'm sorry. I didn't know about you."

"Then you mean-he could be your son, Boss?" Mildred asked the question that was on everyone's mind at the moment.

"Yes, Mildred. It's-possible. I-I gave this locket to his mother." Remington finally looked over at Laura. The shock was evident on her face, but the brown eyes he loved so much were filled with pain and regret when they met his.

Laura leaned against the desk, propping herself up before she fell. Her mind was racing. It wasn't supposed to be this way. She was supposed to have children with Rem, an infant that he could sing to sleep with MacNamara's Band' like he had little Joey, an infant that he could regale with his stories like he had done with her many times. He wasn't supposed to have a grown son! Laura desperately wanted to believe that Sean was running some kind of con, but, from Remington's reaction to his mother's name and the locket, she knew she couldn't. Her husband's blue eyes were pleading with her to understand. Laura pushed herself away from the desk and moved over to him to slip her arm around his waist just to let him know she was there. He gave her one of his most disarming smiles, grateful beyond words for her support. Remington cleared his throat clogged with emotion and looked at the younger man.

"Sean, I am truly sorry. If I had known, things would have been different for you growing up."

"Spare me your regrets, Pops. Do you know what it was like to grow up as the child of an unwed mother in those days? Oh, I know my mother loved me, but I was always aware that I was different from the other children. I've been looking all over for you so I could give you something of my own." Suddenly Sean drew his arm back and punched Remington in the jaw, then the abdomen. Startled, Mr. Steele stumbled backward and found himself sprawled on the floor. The younger man appeared to be ready to jump Remington again, but then Mildred and Laura sprung into action.

"Hold on a minute." Laura grabbed Sean's arms to pin them to his side while Mildred helped Remington to his feet. "Are you okay, Rem?"

"I'm okay, Laura, I'm okay-" he said softly as he rubbed his jaw to see if anything was broken. When Laura was satisfied that her husband was fine, she turned on Sean, furious.

"Did your mother happen to tell you anything about your father? How he grew up? At least you had a mother to take care of you! Remington didn't even have that. She died giving birth to him. He was passed from relative to relative and then to foster homes until his father finally found him when he was fourteen. So, yes, he knows what it was like to grow up unloved and unwanted. And, just like you, he knew he was different from other children, too. You aren't the only one who had it bad, young man." By this time Laura was shaking with anger. This ungrateful teenager might not like his father, but he was going to respect Remington if Laura had anything to say about it. There was silence for a long moment after Laura's tirade, then Sean broke it.

"Oh, bravo." He sneered. "Do you always let the little woman fight your battles for you, Pop?"

Remington wrenched Sean out of Laura's grip and pinned him against the receptionist's desk. Remington's blue eyes turned cold.. "Laura has every right to speak up, lad, and you will not speak to her in that manner. Is that clear?" When Sean didn't answer right away, Remington tightened his grip on the younger man. "I can't hear you. Is that clear?"

"Yeah, it's clear." Sean grudgingly replied.

"Good. Now you and I are going to have a little chat."

"I have nothing to say to you." Sean hissed.

"Fine. Then you'll listen because I have plenty to say to you."

"Sorry, old man, not this time. I have another pressing engagement. But I'll leave my card."

Sean jerked out of Remington's grip and pulled a canister from his pocket. He tossed it to the ground, filling the reception area with smoke and leaving Remington, Laura and Mildred temporarily incapacitated. He ran from the office. Still coughing from the tear gas, Remington rushed out of the office after him. However, by the time he reached the elevator, the doors had already closed on Sean. He headed for the stairwell, then remembered the office was on the eleventh floor. Besides, Sean could have disembarked from the elevator on any floor and hidden in any of the offices in this building. "Damn!" Remington muttered. Mildred had apparently disposed of the canister in the bathroom and she and Laura were waving away the last of the smoke as Remington entered the reception area. After making sure Laura and Mildred were all right, he informed Mildred that he would be in his office and didn't want to be disturbed.

"Ah, Boss, do you want Sean's card?" the older woman asked as she held out a business card to him.

"His card?" Remington echoed. "I thought that canister of tear gas was his card'."

"Apparently not. We found this on the desk when the smoke had cleared." Laura said. "And it does have his room number at the Belvedere and his phone number so you can track down your errant son."

Remington took the card from Mildred and turned it over, studying the numbers on the back, then he did an about face and headed out of the office again.

"Where are you going?" Laura asked.

"As you said, Laura. To see my errant son."

"Rem, he just left here. He wouldn't have had time to make it to the hotel yet."

"But, if Fred guns it, I could be at the hotel the same time Sean arrives. If I wait, he could be on a bloody airplane flying out of here by then!" Remington protested.

"Not without this he can't." Grinning widely, Laura held up an airplane ticket.

"Laura! You didn't-" he didn't continue in words, but made the motions of someone picking a pocket. He hoped to God Laura had not picked up that former profession of his.

"No, Mr. Steele, even though the thought did occur briefly. Apparently it fell out of his pocket when he made his hasty retreat from the office."

"I've said it before and I'll say it again: you're good." He moved over to his wife and cupped her face in his hands to kiss her thoroughly. So thoroughly that Mildred had to clear her throat to get their attention.

"Uh, Boss, Mrs. Steele. You might want to take it into Mr. Steele's office. But remember Mr. Mellenkamp is due at ten."

The Steeles pulled apart. "Ah, yes, Mr. Mellenkamp. Buzz me when he arrives, Mildred. I still don't want to be disturbed until then." Remington said.

"Remington?" Laura called after him. How could he run so hot and then so cold in a matter of seconds? He didn't seem to hear her. Rem disappeared into his office and shut the red door firmly behind him. She recognized that as a sign that he did not want to see anyone, not even her. Laura looked quizzically at Mildred who shrugged her shoulders, as much in the dark about the Boss' behavior as his wife was. But Laura thought she understood Remington's need to be alone. First the emotional upheaval of Daniel last night and then today the surprise appearance of a son he never knew he had. He was riding an emotional roller coaster and she guessed he needed time to get his bearings. But she could some sleuthing on her own about his son. "Mildred, run Sean O'Connor through the computer. Let's see if he is who he says he is."

"On it, honey." Mildred turned to the keyboard and started typing.

Remington had draped his suit jacket over the back of his chair. Now he stood at the window, gazing out at the haze covered skyline. He held the locket in one hand and scrubbed his face with his free hand as went over the events of the morning. "God, Erin, why didn't you tell me I had a son?" he whispered. A son-a son who grew up without a father. The same way he had. And the parallels between this situation and the Earl of Claridge were uncanny. Idly Remington turned the locket over in his hand and studied the back. He frowned. It wasn't there. It wasn't there! He distinctly remembered etching the outline of a heather plant on the back of Erin's locket because it was her favorite flower. Even with age the remains of the scratches in the metal should be evident. But the back of this locket was smooth-like new. It wasn't Erin's locket. Sean was a fraud. But then why had he come here, pretending to be his long lost son? There was only one way to find out. Even though Remington now knew the truth, Sean didn't know he knew and Mr. Steele could use that to his advantage. He dug through the pockets of his coat until he came up with the card Sean had left. As he turned it over, a small emblem on the front of the card caught his eye-and turned his blood to ice. IEC Imports. Columbini's dummy corporation that hid all of his illegal operations. Sean was working for the Shadow. And now the Shadow knew where Remington - or Paul Fabrini as Columbini had known him-was. Remington grabbed his jacket and stuffed the locket and card back into the pocket, then shrugged on the jacket on his way out of the door. He stormed past Laura and Mr. Mellenkamp, barely seeing either one of them. "Mildred, I'll be at the Hotel Belvedere if Laura needs me for anything."

"Mr. Steele, I do need you-here-" Laura grabbed his arm as he went by. "Mr. Mellenkamp, remember?" she nodded toward their client.

Remington put on his best smile as he shook hands with the older gentleman. "Ah, Mr. Mellenkamp. A pleasure to finally meet you. But I'm afraid I'll have to leave you in the capable hands of my associate. A new lead has just turned up in another case and I must follow through on it straightaway."

"Of course, Mr. Steele. I understand."

"Thank you, Mr. Mellenkamp. Laura, where is that item you confiscated from our previous client this morning?" His blue eyes warned her to refrain from asking the questions he could almost see racing through her brain. He shook his head slightly to preclude any further discussion. Laura sighed and handed the airline ticket to him. He slipped it inside his jacket.

"I hope you know what you're doing." She whispered.

"Trust me, Laura. No matter what happens, trust me." He whispered back, squeezing her hand in reassurance.

Laura frowned at his enigmatic response. What did he mean, no matter what happened? Suddenly she remembered the note she had pulled from his pocket this morning and her blood ran cold. Laura had a bad feeling Remington was in trouble and he didn't want her involved in it. While it was sweet of him to think he had to protect her, when would he learn that she didn't need protection? She had to get to the bottom of this. "Mr. Steele!" she called after his retreating back, but he did not stop. Laura asked Mildred to get Mr. Mellenkamp a cup of coffee and keep him company for a few minutes and she rushed out of the office. Laura caught up with her husband at the elevator. She grabbed his arm and swung him around to face her. For a petite woman, Laura was very strong.

"What is going on?" she demanded to know, her brown eyes boring into his blue ones.

"The less you know, the better off you'll be on this one, Laura. Please don't ask. It's something I must handle myself."

"And need I remind you, Mr. Steele, we are partners in work-and in life. What affects you affects me." Laura's voice rose a notch.

"And that is precisely why I don't want you involved." Remington surprised Laura by drawing her to him and kissing her again as thoroughly as he had in the office a few moments ago. Laura relaxed against him and he drew her closer, holding her as if he was never going to let her go. But in that embrace Laura sensed a finality. A farewell that frightened her. She pulled back and looked into his deep blue eyes. All of his love for her was there, but there also seemed to be good-bye in their ocean depths.

"Rem?" she asked. "What is going on?" Laura was terrified of his answer. All of the old fears that he would leave her came flooding back. Before Remington could reply, the cab of the elevator came to a halt. The doors opened and a small crowd of people disembarked.

"Laura-please-trust me. And always remember I love you, no matter what happens." He leaned in to kiss her once more, then he rushed into the elevator and punched the door close button. As the doors slid shut, he heard Laura shout his name and she didn't sound too happy.

Anger and fear warred inside Laura. He knew they worked better together than either one of them did alone. And working alone almost inevitably led him into trouble. How dare he go off on his own! Then his last words echoed in her head and she frowned. No matter what happens.' That was the second time he had told her that in a small space of time.as if he expected something to happen that would strain her new found trust in him. Or something that would appear to stretch it. There had been many instances of that in the five years she had known him and it usually involved something illegal. He had accused her once of putting him through little tests to prove his feelings and commitment to her. Now Laura realized the tables were turned and she was the one being tested. She hoped she was up to the challenge. Laura returned to the office.

"Where was the Boss going, honey?" Mildred asked, a worried frown creasing her forehead.

"He didn't enlighten me, Mildred, but, from what he said, I assume he went to talk to Sean. Where's Mr. Mellenkamp?" Laura looked around for their client.

"In Mr. Steele's office."

Laura nodded and crossed over to the door of her husband's office to disappear inside.

Remington parked the Auburn and entered the lobby of the hotel Belvedere. He didn't notice the opulent surroundings, so intent was he on finding Sean. He didn't have to look very far. The teen-ager, carrying a duffel bag, was making his way across the lobby to the front door. When the younger man spotted Remington, he turned on his heel to find another way out, but Mr. Steele caught up with him. Grabbing him by the arm, Remington pushed Sean up against a nearby door jamb.

"Okay, mate, we are going to have that little chat now." Remington said through clenched teeth, oblivious to the scene he was creating and the curious stares of the other guests.

"I told you I have nothing to say to you." Sean hissed.

"Fine. Then you can answer just one question for me. What was your assignment from Columbini?"

"So you received my message, eh? But of course you did. You're the great detective Remington Steele now. Well, Dad, I don't want-or need--any career counseling from you. You just can't stand the thought that your precious son is working for one of your sworn enemies, can you?" Sean sneered.

"What I can't stand is the thought that you are in over your head, lad. You're young. You should have your whole life ahead of you. Take my word for it, you won't if you continue working for Columbini. Now what does Columbini want with me, eh? To kill me? Blackmail me? What?"

"He just wants to renew an old acquaintance-"

"And no doubt settle an old score. Tell me where he is." When Sean didn't answer right away, Remington placed his arm across Sean's neck and pressed hard against his windpipe. "Tell me." Remington saw a brief look of terror cross the younger man's face, then the defiant look returned.

"And what if I don't? Are you going to kill me? Then you'll never learn where he is, will you?"

"I wonder if I choked you inch by inch, if the city or country where Columbini is staying would stick in your throat. Eh?" Remington's hold tightens little by little until Sean was gasping for air. When he realized that the older man was deadly serious, Sean managed to whisper, "London. He's in London." Remington loosened his grip and patted the front of Sean's shirt. "There. That wasn't so hard, was it? Just one more word of warning, Sean, lad. If you get in my way, it may be the last thing you ever do. And, if you think Columbini will care if I kill you, think again. You're expendable. All of Columbini's people are expendable. Get out while you can." Remington released Sean and reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket to pull out Sean's airline ticket. He handed it to the younger man. "I suggest you use this and disappear for a while."

"How did you get this?"

"You dropped it on your hasty retreat from my office. Go on. Get out of here. And remember what I said."

Remington turned on his heel and left the lobby to return to the Auburn. When he reached the condo, he let himself in and threw clothes and toiletries into his suitcase, then searched the bureau for his passport. His eyes fell on their wedding picture-the real wedding complete with Laura in a white dress and him in a tuxedo-on top of the bureau and he stopped, recalling that magical day. He could barely believe his good fortune that day and the feeling continued to this one. With Laura beside him, he was truly home. The man who had never really had a place to call his own was now settled happily into domestic life-all because of the petite brunette who had turned his life around. He owed Laura so much. The least he could do was remove the threat Columbini posed to their lives. And he would do everything in his power to get back to this apartment-to Laura. He belonged here by her side. Smiling to himself, Remington picked up his suitcase and moved into the living room. He called the airline and learned he could be placed on stand-by for a 1:30 flight to London. Telling the representative he would take it, Remington hung up from that call and made another call to Fred to take him to the airport.

After checking in and using his name recognition to cajole the ticket agent to maneuver him on the 1:30 flight, Remington sat in the terminal and read the paper he had not had time to read that morning until a few minutes before the pre-boarding call would be made. Moving over to the bank of phones, he deposited a coin and swept the receiver up to his ear, then punched in Laura's private number at the office. After two rings, the phone on the other end was picked up and his wife's lilting voice floated through the wires.

"Hello-Laura Holt Steele." Remington didn't think he would ever get over the thrill that went through him when he heard her add his name to the end of hers.

"Hi, love-" he said, his voice tender and loving.

"Rem! Where are you? Did you have a talk with Sean?"

"Yes. It was very enlightening, Laura. And I'm at the airport. Something has come up. I must go back to London to handle some estate matters. I called Daniel's solicitor this morning on another matter and he brought this to my attention. It must be done straightaway."

"London? Today? Right now?" Laura was stunned at the suddenness of this development. "What's the rush?"

"Apparently Daniel placed a time limit on this particular piece of business and the deadline is in a few days."

"Do you want me to come with you?" she offered.

"No!" Remington's voice was more vehement than he meant it to be, but he did not want to expose Laura to Columbini's wrath, too-or drag her into the trap the Shadow may have set for him. "I mean, of course, I would love to have you by my side, but there's really no need. Besides someone has to hold down the fort at the office, eh?" he hoped by appealing to her work ethic, he could dissuade Laura from following him. It apparently worked.

"Okay. But, if you change your mind, just call and I'll be on the next plane to London."

"I will. I'll be staying in Daniel's flat. You have the phone number there, don't you?"

There was silence on the other end for a moment as apparently Laura checked the Rolodex on her desk. "Yes"

Just then the PA system broadcast the first call of the flight to London. "I must go, love. They're calling my flight."

"I love you, Rem. Take care."

"I love you, too. Good-bye, love." Laura hung up the phone and returned to the paperwork on her desk. Remington was right. One of them had to stay here to keep the agency running. However, a nagging feeling of dread caused an involuntary shiver to run down her spine. Soon the door to her office was flung open and Detective James Jarvis appeared in the doorway with a worried looking Mildred behind him.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Steele. I tried to stop him, but he insisted on speaking to you."

"It's all right, Mildred. What can I do for you, Detective Jarvis?"

"I'm here to speak to Mr. Steele," the youthful detective replied.

"He's not here. He was called away on urgent personal business. Perhaps I can help you?"

"Urgent personal business, huh? That's too bad, Laura. I have a few questions to ask him--about the murder of Sean O'Connor."


	3. Chapter 3

This story takes place after the fifth season. It also presumes that Remington and Laura were married again in a real ceremony with family and friends present. I do not own them and the story is not intended to infringe on the rights of those who do. This is for entertainment purposes only and I am not making any money from this. Feedback is always welcome.

Steele Shadowed by the Past - Part 3 

Mildred and Laura stared at the detective in disbelief. Laura finally found her voice.

"Murdered? Sean is dead?"

Jarvis nodded. "We found him this morning in his hotel room-shot to death."

"And what makes you think Remington had anything to do with it?"

The detective held up two evidence bags, one with a gun inside, the other containing what appeared to be a note. "Is this Mr. Steele's gun?"

Laura took the bag and examined the gun. It sure looked like the agency's gun.

"I can't be sure. Mildred, see if you can find the agency gun. Look in the usual places." As Mildred scurried away to do what Laura asked, Mrs. Steele continued, "What else do you have, Jarvis?"

"His fingerprints are on the gun. This note has his name, address and phone number. And he was seen arguing with Sean O'Connor in the lobby of the Belvedere hotel by several witnesses-and one of them said Mr. Steele threatened to kill O'Connor. Now you tell me he's taken off. You know as well as I do, Laura, that an innocent man does not run from the scene of the crime. Where did Mr. Steele go?"

"I don't know. He just said he had to return to England to take care of some business concerning his late father's estate. That's all he told me."

Detective Jarvis looked at Laura for a long moment, obviously trying to decide if she was telling him the truth. "All right. I'll contact Scotland Yard. But if I find out you're hiding something from me, Mrs. Steele, I'll nail you for aiding and abetting a fugitive. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly, Detective."

"What do you know about Sean O'Connor?"

"Not much. He came into the office this morning, claiming to be Remington's son."

"His son?" Jimmy echoed, stunned. He had not expected that bit of news. "Wait a minute. Let me write this down." The detective took out his notebook and started scribbling. "Go on."

"According to Sean, he was the result of Mr. Steele's youthful dalliance with a house maid. He showed up here with a locket Rem had given his mother to prove that he was Rem's son."

"And did Mr. Steele or you believe his story?"

"I can't speak for Mr. Steele. I didn't know what to believe. I had Mildred run a check on him." Laura went over to the printer and scanned the long sheets for the information she wanted. She tore the paper from the printer and read. "Born in Ireland to Erin O'Connor. Father unknown." Laura grimaced. "Dropped out of school at 14 and had minor brushes with the law. Auto theft. Burglary. B and E. He drifted around England and France. Works for an import- export company. IEC based in Nice. He started there when he was 16. CEO-Eduardo Columbini. He had some trouble with someone named Paul Fabrini six years ago." Laura stopped speaking as bells started ringing in her head and she frowned.

Paul Fabrini. She had heard that name before. Now where was it? Fabrini. Fabrini. Was it a former client or possibly a victim? Before Laura could get a handle on the name, though, Mildred returned to her desk. She looked crestfallen and scared.

"I can't find the agency gun, Mrs. Steele." There was a long silence as the implications of that discovery became clear. "The Boss is in trouble, isn't he?"

"It appears that way, Mildred." Laura turned to Detective Jarvis. "But you know all you have is circumstantial evidence, Jarvis. Someone else could have used the gun while wearing gloves so that Mr. Steele's fingerprints would be the only ones present. And the note and the alleged argument don't prove anything."

"But finding out O'Connor claimed to be his son sheds new light on the whole thing, doesn't it?" Jarvis put his notebook away. "That's all the questions I have right now, but don't you plan any quick trips, Laura. You are a material witness and I may have some more questions later." With that the detective left the office.

"He didn't do it, Mrs. Steele. He couldn't have-"

"I know, Mildred, I know. Do you remember a client named Fabrini?"

"Not off the top of my head. Do you want me to search for the file?"

"If you would." Just then the printer started up again. "I'll get the printer, Mildred. You look for the file."

Mildred disappeared into Laura's office to check the files there while Laura waited for the printer to stop. When it did, she tore the pages from the machine and started to read. As she did, the furrow in her brow grew deeper and deeper. Oh, good Lord, what was Remington mixed up in this time? This man Columbini was dangerous-possibly an assassin. Since Sean worked for Columbini, she wouldn't be surprised if he was the one who had killed Sean. Columbini mostly worked out of France and Italy.

Italy! That was it! One of Mr. Steele's passports that Inspector Lombard had confiscated last year was in the name of Paul Fabrini. Just then Mildred hurried back into the reception area"

"One of Mr. Steele's false passports was in the name of Paul Fabrini, honey."

"I just remembered that, too."

"What are you gonna do, Mrs. Steele?"

"I have to go after him. Call the airline and make a reservation for me."

"But Detective Jarvis told you not to take any sudden trips, remember? And, honey, you won't do Mr. Steele a lick of good if you're sitting in a jail cell." Mildred pointed out.

Laura realized she was right. She slapped Mildred's desk in frustration. "Damn!" In years past Laura would have seen this situation as one where Remington had left her holding the bag to clean up his mess. But now all she could think of was getting to him-helping him deal with Columbini. Saving his life. Involuntary tears sprang to her eyes as she thought of the danger that could be awaiting her husband. "Oh, Mildred, if anything happens to him." she couldn't voice the deepest concerns of her heart. Mildred understood and hugged her. "Nothing will. He can take care of himself. He's proven it over and over again, hasn't he? And you two have finally found each other. God wouldn't tear you apart now-not this way." Mildred reassured Laura, even though she was feeling far from reassured herself. She was sick with worry about the Boss, too. He was like her own son and the thought of never looking into those blue eyes or hearing the lilting hint of Irish in his British accent was almost too much to bear. Mildred hugged Laura again. "Honey, why don't you go home? There aren't any more appointments this afternoon. Put your feet up- watch a movie-or read a book."

Laura shook her head. "I can't, Mildred. I can't face that empty apartment. I'll tackle some back logged paperwork. It's better for me to work-to take my mind off-things."

"Okay, Mrs. Holt-Steele." Mildred sat down at her desk and Laura headed for her office, then stopped and turned as a thought occurred to her.

"Mildred, make that reservation for me anyway. For Saturday. Detective Jarvis can only hold me here for 48 hours as a material witness. Even though Mr. Steele will have a two day head start, I might still be able to catch up with him."

"But what about the agency?"

"It's slow right now. We can close for a few days. You'll still be on salary during your enforced vacation."

"Do you want me to come along, honey? I'm worried about him, too."

"I know you are, but I don't want to put you in danger, too. Not this time, Mildred."

Laura disappeared into her office.

Remington leaned back in the seat on the airplane. He closed his eyes and sighed as the full realization of why he was on this flight hit him full force. Even though he knew it was the right thing to do, leaving Laura at home, he felt guilty about doing it, not to mention the fact that he had lied to her. He hated deceiving her now that they both had come so far in being honest with their feelings and honesty had become the hallmark of their relationship. But it couldn't be helped. In the wedding vows they had written themselves and exchanged he had promised her he would never stop watching out for her and this situation certainly warranted his protection. His mind started working on a list of people in London he could contact who might know where Columbini was along with a list of places he remembered the Shadow frequented. Remington was so wrapped up in his musings that the flight attendant had to raise her voice to get his attention.

"Sir? What would you like to drink?" the pretty blonde placed a packet of peanuts on his tray table, her eyes sweeping over the handsome features of his face in female appreciation of a delectable masculine specimen.

"Ah, yes-a white wine, please." Remington reached into his pocket and took out the money to pay for his drink. The flight attendant placed the wine next to the peanuts and he gave her the bills.

"Thank you. If you want anything else, just call." The inference in her low, seductive voice was hard to miss. She included herself in that 'wanted' list. Remington flashed her one of his most disarming smiles, then lifted his wine glass with his left hand in a salute, making sure she saw the wide gold band on the third finger. Not too long ago, he would have taken her up on her offer and flirted a little, but now he had no interest in that game. He was hopelessly and completely devoted to a petite brunette with freckles back in Los Angeles. Remington smiled to himself at how married he was. The flight attendant moved away, disappointed, and no doubt envying the lucky woman who had won the heart of this hunk. Remington sipped at his wine and continued with the task at hand.

The plane landed at Heathrow. As Remington walked into the terminal from the jetway, by habit he looked around for Daniel. How many times had his father met his planes here over the years? A lump formed in his throat when he realized that he would never see Daniel's welcoming smile again. He coughed to clear his throat and passed through the passport inspection point. Retrieving his suitcase in the baggage claim area, he hurried through customs- having nothing to declare- and caught the tube to take him to the South Kensington station. Remington disembarked, minding the gap' as the automated woman's voice instructed, and took the escalator up to street level. Ah, London. It was a cold, damp day in the British capital and he turned up the collar on his coat against the wind. Again memories of the time he had spent here crowded in his mind as he walked to Daniel's old flat, grateful that he had continued to pay the rent on it. At least he had a place to stay. He would get some rest and then begin his search for the Shadow. Or would he? As Remington approached the row of flats, he saw two bobbies outside. They seemed to be keeping a close eye on the building. Mr. Steele started toward them, then stopped as he realized they could be Columbini's men disguised as police officers. They hadn't noticed him so he turned on his heel and went down a side street. He opened the window to the master bedroom of the flat, then tossed his suitcase inside and climbed in after it. The room looked the same as he remembered it--as if it was waiting for Daniel to return. The bed was still neatly made with a forest green coverlet. The top of the bureau was clean. The pictures on the wall were all in the same places. Then he noticed a new photograph. He and Laura were standing together, her arm linked through his as they smiled into the camera. He didn't remember ever posing like that for Daniel. When had his father taken it, Rem wondered? Oh, well, that would be another one of the unsolved mysteries of his life. He sank down on the bed and picked up the picture of the woman that Daniel had always kept on the nightstand- the woman Remington now knew was his mother. He stared into the blue eyes and face so like his own. Tears stung his eyes. Remington replaced the picture on the nightstand and moved through the flat, being careful to avoid the windows. He checked the kitchen and made a mental list of groceries he needed to buy. Then he returned to the bedroom and sat down on the bed. Remington glanced at his watch to calculate the time in Los Angeles. It was after midnight. As much as he hated the thought of awakening Laura, right now he needed to hear her voice. He dialed the number and waited for the call to go through. He listened as the phone rang ten times in his ear and frowned. Where was she? He knew Laura could be a heavy sleeper, but she always heard the telephone. Could she still be at the office, catching up on paperwork? He disconnected the apartment number and punched in the number to his private line at the office. This time the phone rang six times until it was finally picked up and Laura's sleepy voice came through the wires.

"Hello? Laura Holt-" she yawned, then added, "Steele."

"Hi, love. Why are you still at the office?"

"Rem! Oh, thank God, you called. Never mind that." suddenly Laura sounded wide awake. "They found Sean murdered in his hotel room this morning and Detective Jarvis has you pegged as the main suspect."

"Well, that explains the presence of the two bobbies outside of my flat."

"Remington, this is no laughing matter!" Laura was shouting into the phone now. "You are wanted for questioning in a murder. And, since your apartment is being watched, it's a sure bet Scotland Yard has Jarvis' information. You have to come back here and clear this up."

"I can't do that, Laura." Remington rubbed one hand over his eyes in both frustration and fatigue. "Let me clear this up in my own way, okay?"

"So your plan is to go after Columbini on your own, is that it? The man is an assassin, Mr. Steele. He could kill you as he likely killed Sean!"

"How did you find out about Columbini?" he asked warily, ignoring the rest of her tirade. Remington knew the anger Laura was spewing covered up her worry about him.

"I assume you had Mildred run Columbini's name through the computer earlier. I happened to be near the printer when the information came through. And what business did you have with him six years ago, Mr. Fabrini?"

Oh, Lord, she knew about that, too? Remington thought. How could he tell her about his past history with Columbini without adding to her worry? If she knew the whole story, there would be nothing to stop her from hopping the next plane to London. He knew her well enough to know that. "I-Laura, I assure you that you don't want to hear this particular story."

"Remington, I'm waiting." She shot back in that tone she used when she was in her full bull dog terrier mode.

"Laura, leave it alone."

"I can't! Not when it could mean your life! Rem, we've just started a new life together after all of those years of false starts. I love you. I don't want to lose you-not this way. As a victim of that sordid past of yours. It took both of us so long to stop running from each other and to run toward each other. I don't want to waste any more time."

"I love you, too, and I'll do everything in my power to come back to you, Laura, even if I must crawl all the way to Los Angeles. When this is finished. I have to do this, love, to give us back that new life."

Silence fell between them for a long moment as they both wrestled with the depth of the feelings that mere words could not convey. Finally Laura broke the silence. "You still haven't answered my question. What kind of business dealings did you have with Columbini?"

"I was hoping you had forgotten that particular question in the midst of my heartfelt declaration of unflagging devotion to you." Remington replied.

Laura could almost see that half smile he wore when he was trying to distract her from questions he didn't want to answer. "Not a chance. I'm staying on this phone until you give me an answer and it's your quarter that's paying for it."

Remington knew her well enough to know that she would follow through on that threat. He drew a deep breath and began. "Columbini and I were not actually in business together. I stole something of value that belonged to him and he wanted it back-badly."

Laura sighed, too, her disapproval evident. Would it ever end, this constant emergence of assorted figures from his past? "What was it-jewels or art?"

"Jewels-a very precious pearl and ruby necklace."

"So what happened?"

"Daniel and I went to ground in France after leaving Italy."

"At the villa?"

"No. We knew that was the first place Columbini would look. We went to a small village. Stayed there several months, then returned to London. I left Daniel and traveled to Monte Carlo, then several other places. I thought I was safe from Columbini, but two years later I landed in Nice and ran into him. Seems he had been chasing me all over Europe. Needless to say, it was less than a friendly reunion and we had words."

"Did you threaten him?" Laura asked, caught up as she always was in her husband's storytelling ability.

"I'm sure we traded words that could be construed as threats, yes. He went out to his yacht and I returned to my hotel room. The next morning the coppers were banging on my door, telling me that Columbini's yacht had been blown to bits. Columbini was missing-presumed dead--and there were several witnesses who saw us arguing the night before."

"So they thought you set the bomb and killed Columbini."

"I spent that whole day with the local constabulary, answering their questions. They released me that night, but warned me that I was still a material witness and it would be in my best interest to stick around Nice for a while. I disagreed. I couldn't take the chance that they would recognize me from some other caper in France so I disappeared again."

"But Columbini didn't die in the explosion and now he's luring you to him by way of Sean and the locket."

"That would be my guess, yes. That's why I don't want you involved, Laura. Columbini is a very dangerous man. You saw that yourself from the print out on him."

There was silence on her end of the phone for a moment, then she said, "Rem, I'm coming to England."

"Laura, no!"

"Rem, you need me."

"Yes, I need you-all in one piece!" Now Remington's anger was starting to build at her refusal to listen to reason, the Irish accent becoming even more pronounced. "Laura, Columbini is dangerous. For once, listen to me, please, Laura." He was now pleading with her. "I know this man better than you do. He's deadly-"

"We've dealt with deadly madmen before, Remington. Descoine comes to mind."

"Columbini makes Descoine look like a Boy Scout." Lord, he wished he wasn't talking to her on the phone. There was no way he could do what he wanted to do: shake some sense into her. "Laura, I know I don't make a habit of telling you what to do, but, in this case, I must insist that you stay in Los Angeles. Please-"

Laura didn't seem to hear him. "Rem, I can help you. We're a team, remember? Now Jarvis has me pinned here in Los Angeles for forty-eight hours as a material witness, but Mildred has already booked me on a flight to London on Saturday. Tell me where you'll be."

"Laura, didn't you hear a word I said?" he was desperately trying to think of something to say to dissuade her from making this trip. He knew he was losing this battle. Once Laura got an idea in her head, it was permanently ensconced there.

"I heard you. I just disagree. I'm coming to London, Remington."

"If you do, I can't guarantee I'll still be here, Laura."

That snagged her attention. There was a long silence on her end as she digested the implication of his words. "You mean you'll just disappear without a trace. Just like the old days, is that it?"

"Laura, I don't know where this search will take me. Sean said Columbini was in London, but that doesn't mean he stayed here so yes, I may have to go to ground."

Another long silence, then she replied quietly, "I'll take my chances. I'm still coming to London, Rem." To preclude any further discussion, she hung up the phone.

"Dammit, Laura!" he slammed his hand on the telephone table, causing the machine to jump. Laura was the most obstinate, impossible woman he had ever known--and it was his lot in life to love her to distraction. Remington picked up the receiver again to call her back, then thought better of it and replaced the receiver in the cradle. He was too tired to think of a plan now. Remington fell back on the bed and closed his eyes. However, even though he was exhausted, restful sleep eluded him. Nightmares of Columbini chasing, catching and then torturing Laura filled his mind with unspeakable terror and he woke up drenched in a cold sweat. After a few hours of attempting to sleep and dispel the recurring nightmares, Remington gave up on sleep and arose. He changed into jeans and a light blue sweater. Shrugging into his leather jacket, he left the flat and walked the few blocks to a pub. Rem went to the bar. The room was crowded, noisy, and smoke-filled. He placed his order and took the fish and chips and Guiness to a table in the back. Laura in London would complicate his search for the Shadow. He preferred to do it alone, but Rem knew that Laura could not be left alone to face the merciless Columbini. She had to be convinced to return to Los Angeles, but since that was unlikely, she would have to accompany him-everywhere. This was a danger he wanted to face alone. This wasn't Laura's fight, why did make it her fight? He knew the answer to that question even before it was fully formed in his mind. She loved him. If he lived to be one hundred he didn't think he would ever get over the awe he felt at the realization that Laura loved him. Him. The former jewel and art thief whom she had transformed into the man she had always envisioned as her Remington Steele. And, because of that love she was willing to stand with him and confront a vicious enemy from his past. Remington felt tears sting his eyes. Lord, he couldn't imagine what he had done in his miserable life to deserve someone as wonderful as Laura. However, that did not change the fact that Laura would be in harm's way when she came to England. Remington took a long swallow of his Guinness and slammed the glass down on the table, garnering him looks from nearby patrons at the loud noise. He gave them a sheepish look and went back to his fish and chips. Back to his thoughts until he heard a familiar voice.

"-'arry? Is that you, mate?" Remington looked up into the face of his old friend Chalkie, standing by his table.. "'arry, I didn't know you was in London. When did you get ere?"

"This morning. I'm staying in Daniel's old flat."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry to ear about old Daniel. e was a good man. Wot are you doin' ere, arry? Plannin' a grab?"

"No, Chalkie. I've given all that up now."

"Yeah, that's right. You're the great detective Remington Steele now, ain't you?"

"And I hope you can help me. What do you hear on the streets about the Shadow?"

At the name Chalkie visibly paled and took a step back from his friend. "Uh, arry, I wouldn't say that too loud." He looked around to see if anyone else was listening to their conversation. "It ain't ealthy these days to be askin' about the Shadow."

"Why, Chalkie?" Remington reached up and grabbed Chalkie by the lapels to pull him down so that his face was level with his. "Tell me why. What is he planning?"

"I can't elp you there, mate. I don't know."

"Then who does, Chalkie? You must have heard something. Give me a name." When his friend hesitated, Remington tightened his grip. "Chalkie, this is a matter of life and death. Not just for me this time, but someone I care deeply for."

Chalkie had never heard Harry speak of anyone with that much passion and love in his voice. He glanced around again to make sure no one was listening. "O.K. arry. Rupert. Talk to Rupert."

"Does he live in the same place?"

"Yeah, mate. Be careful, arry."

"I will. Thanks, Chalkie."

The other man rushed out of the pub as if the hounds of hell were after him. Remington finished his beer and left the pub. He hurried towards his flat to change clothes again before meeting with Rupert.

Suddenly a loud roar ripped through the night air. The apartment block was engulfed in flames.


	4. Chapter 4

This story takes place after the fifth season. It also presumes that Remington and Laura were married in a real ceremony with family and friends present. I do not own them and this is not intended to infringe on the rights of those who do. It is for entertainment purposes only and I am not making any money from it. Feedback is always welcome.

Author's note: Please excuse any errors in time-keeping in this part. I have tried to be as accurate as possible with my calculations, but this jumping between time zones is enough to drive a person crazy! Or perhaps I can attribute it to an alternative universe where time can speed up or slow down at will. Also I don't know of any drug that would cause the effects described herein. I invented the drug for the purposes of the story. Also this part is rated NC-17 If you are under 17 or descriptions of graphic sex offend you, don't read it!

Steele Shadowed by the Past - Part 4

The force of the explosion threw Remington to the ground. He landed hard. Sharp pains pierced his head and left shoulder. He shielded his head from flying debris as best he could with his other arm. Dazed momentarily from the shock of the explosion and the pain, Remington finally managed to sit up, ignoring the dizziness, and gingerly probed his shoulder to check for any broken bones. He winced. There didn't seem to be anything fractured, but it still hurt like hell. Remington wondered if he had dislocated his collarbone or sprained the shoulder. He didn't have long to contemplate the possibilities. The sirens of the fire trucks filled the night air and suddenly a plan occurred to him. A bomb had just blown his flat to smithereens. What better way to disappear and trail the Shadow than to let everyone think he was missing? Remington slowly rose to his feet and swayed, almost losing his balance from the wave of dizziness that washed over him. Oh, great, he thought, I probably have a concussion, too. But he had to get away. Remington stumbled down alleyways and mews in the gathering dusk, making his way toward Rupert Whittingham's palatial home in the center of London.

As usual, his best laid plans went awry. Remington stumbled, dizziness overtaking him again. This time he lost the battle. He crumpled to the ground as unconsciousness swallowed him whole.

Eduardo Columbini sat at a private table in a casino in Nice, France. His lavish lifestyle was beginning to wear on him. He was rotund from indulging in too many luscious meals and his eyes were perpetually puffy from indulging in too much drink. He also coughed continually from the cigars he kept clamped in his teeth. A haze of smoke swirled around him even now. However, he was a contented man, secure in his position as the head of an underworld syndicate that stretched all over Europe and was always one step ahead of the authorities. He had won big tonight. He was sitting across from a beautiful woman who wore a black dress that revealed more than covered her generous female attributes. Why shouldn't he be content? As he placed his next bet, two of his operatives-dark haired gorillas with bulging muscles, sauntered up to the table. Columbini looked up at them.

"Gentlemen? I take it you have news?" his accent was a blend of French and Italian.

"Subject London #1 has been displaced. The flat was blown up and he is reported as missing." Mario, the largest of the two operatives, gave his report. Columbini sat back in his chair and blew a smoke screen around him.

"Excellent, gentlemen, excellent.. Proceed to the next stage of our plan."

Mario merely nodded and the two men left. Columbini continued to play, racking up more and more winnings at chemin de fer. Soon he was interrupted once more, this time by a lovely young woman in her early thirties with raven black hair that cascaded to her shoulders and eyes as blue as the night sky outside. She was clad in a white dress that snugly fit her slender frame, but was, at the same time, demure.

"Having good luck tonight, ma pere?" she asked as she sat down next to Columbini. Her accent was also that curious mixture of French and Italian with a hint of British thrown in from her education at Oxford. He took the cigar out of his mouth and laid it down in the ashtray at his elbow.

"Ah, Cara. Yes, ma cherie, I am." He reached out to pat his adopted daughter's hand, struck again by how much she resembled her mother.

"Have you heard any news about the search for my brother, papa?"

"All in good time, Cara. I know you are most anxious to meet him."

"Yes, I am. Well, I am going to turn in. Good night, papa." Cara kissed her father on the cheek and walked out of the casino. Columbini watched her go.

His daughter was the light of his life. He would do anything for her, including die for her.

Or even kill for her.

"Mr. Steele?" a lilting feminine voice that sounded suspiciously like Laura's drew Remington out of a pleasant dream as he drifted into consciousness.

"Laura?" he murmured, his blue eyes fluttering open as his hand groped for his wife's.

"No, Mr. Steele. It's Miss Tidwell." Now the feminine voice didn't sound anything like Laura's; instead it was a distinctly crisp English accent. "Do you know where you are?"

Remington's head started to clear from the cobwebs of sleep and he looked around. That slight movement sent a stab of pain through his skull and he moaned. From the sterile look of his surroundings he guessed he was in a hospital, not the alley where he vaguely remembered collapsing.

"A hospital, from the looks of it." He replied to the nurse's question.

"Very good. And what is your address?"

Remington rattled off the Rossmore apartment address since he no longer had an address here in London. He also answered the nurse's inane question about how many fingers she was holding up in front of him. He was growing tired of this routine that had continued through the night: being awakened every two hours to be subjected to this foolish round of questions when all he wanted to do was sleep. They had explained it was common procedure with concussion patients, but it seemed totally pointless to him.

"Excellent, Mr. Steele. The doctor will be in to see you after breakfast."

"Breakfast? What time is it?" Remington attempted to sit up, but again the simple movement sent a piercing pain through his skull. The nurse slowly raised him to a sitting position with minimum movement.

"It's six o'clock in the morning." Miss Tidwell moved away from the bed and picked up a tray from a cart. She placed the tray in front of Remington.

"So then it's ten o'clock in Los Angeles." He hurriedly calculated the time difference between London and L.A. "May I call my wife now?"

"I don't know, Mr. Steele. Your condition." The nurse began, but Remington interrupted.

"Blast my condition! I am fine." Rem's voice rose in anger and the hints of Irish emerged as they always did when he was emotionally upset. "What is the bloody problem about calling my wife to tell her I'm O.K., eh?"

"Mr. Steele, please-don't upset yourself."

"It's too bloody late for that." Remington threw back the covers on the bed and swung his legs over the side, swaying slightly with vertigo, but determined to continue his search for a phone. He spotted it on the bedside table and leaned over to pick up the receiver. As he did, the dizziness once again claimed him. He would have collapsed in a heap on the floor if Nurse Tidwell had not come to his rescue. She helped him back into bed.

"Mr. Steele-" she scolded in her best nurse' voice. "Eat your breakfast. I will go get the doctor. I'm sure he'll want to see you now after these two episodes."

Nurse Tidwell left the room and Remington reluctantly ate the slop the hospital laughingly called food. What he wouldn't give for a fluffy omelet stuffed full with mushrooms and cheese right now. Well, there was no use torturing himself with those thoughts. He pushed away the plate with the half eaten breakfast, but he did finish his tea. At least they could brew a decent cup. As he set the cup down on the tray after swallowing the last drop of tea, Remington's eyes fell on the phone again. Moving very slowly, he reached for the receiver-just as the door to his room opened. A bobby and a tall, thin man with an unmistakable air of authority surrounding him led Remington to guess he was an inspector for the Yard came into the room. Miss Tidwell brought up the rear. She surmised what Remington had in mind when she saw him sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Mr. Steele, put the phone down."

"Miss Tidwell, must we go through this again? Hello, gentlemen." Remington addressed the bobby and the inspector. "Perhaps you can convince Nurse Tidwell that it is in everyone's best interest that I use this phone to call my wife in the States."

"I'm afraid we are the ones who placed the ban on phone use, Mr. Steele." The inspector stepped forward and moved to the bed. Mr. Steele's instincts went on full alert. Something in the man's answer to his question and his manner aroused his suspicions. "I'm Inspector Barrett and this is Officer Kerry." He indicated the bobby behind him who merely nodded at Mr. Steele. "He is the one who found you in the alley."

"Ah, yes, mates, would you be good enough to show me your identification, please? I was the unfortunate victim of a fraud a few days ago and I do not wish to repeat the experience."

"Certainly, Mr. Steele." Both the inspector and the bobby merely flashed their badges at Remington. He realized that these two men were not who they claimed to be. At the same time the room began to spin and there was a strange taste in his mouth. Too late Remington realized his tea must have been tainted with drugs.

For the second time in twenty-four hours Remington lapsed into unconsciousness.

Laura worked in the office until midnight and then returned to the apartment to stretch out on the sofa to sleep. She couldn't bear the thought of sleeping in their bed without Rem beside her. She had grown accustomed to falling asleep in his arms. Laura arose at six after a restless few hours of sleep. She showered and dressed in a taupe pantsuit topped with a cranberry shell. She dragged out her largest suitcase and started packing for the trip to London. Laura took a brief break when her stomach growled with hunger. She went into the kitchen and hunted down something for breakfast. One of Rem's delectable omelets would have been her first choice. Since that wasn't possible, she settled for two pieces of whole wheat toast spread with orange marmalade and a glass of orange juice.

Laura walked back into the living room and put her breakfast on the coffee table, then found the remote and punched the power button to turn on the TV. It was too darn quiet in the apartment. A TV report of an explosion in a building in London caught her attention. She was about to take another sip of orange juice when the next image on the screen halted the juice glass halfway up to her mouth.

It was a picture of Remington.

The reporter said, "-land Yard is reporting that Mr. Steele is missing. There was no one else in the building at the time of the explosion. To repeat, famed L.A. detective Remington Steele is missing-"

Laura clicked off the TV set and sank down on the sofa, putting down her glass of juice on the coffee table. She wrapped her arms around herself as a shudder of dread racked her body. Laura tried to gather her jumbled thoughts into some kind of order. She latched on to one that continued to push its way forward.

Remington was not dead. She would have known deep in her soul if he was dead. The next question was where was he?

A faded memory of a similar situation brought a knowing smile to Laura's lips. Of course. When a fire had broken out in her loft building as corporate bigwigs were searching for something in her loft a couple of years ago, Remington had supposedly been trapped inside. Then she had gone back into the building with the firefighters to the basement and she had heard a knocking on the door of the coal bin. Mr. Steele had hidden inside to escape the flames and smoke. He had probably done the same thing in London. In their last conversation on the phone Remington had told her he might have to disappear. What better way to do that than to let everybody think he was lost in a fire? It would make her job of finding him more difficult, but at least she knew he was safe. For now. A shiver of panic swept through her when Laura remembered what she had read about Columbini on the print-out. She pushed the bad thoughts aside and returned to the bedroom to finish packing. Tucking her ticket and her passport in her purse, Laura carried the suitcase into the living room to put it down behind the sofa. She moved to the phone and started to pick up the receiver to call Fred. The phone rang under her hand. "Hello-Laura Holt Steele-" she barely managed to speak her name before Mildred's panicked voice interrupted her.

"Mrs. Steele, have you seen the news? They're saying the Boss is missing! There was an explosion at Mr. Chalmer's old flat-"

"I saw it, Mildred. I'm sure he's all right-"

"But what if he isn't? What if he has amnesia again? He'll be wandering around London, not knowing his name. He'll be so lost-"

"He has his Remington Steele passport-" Laura reminded the secretary, but Mildred rushed ahead.

"I'm coming with you to London, honey. I'll meet you at the gate."

"Mildred, no!" But Mildred had already hung up. Laura punched the hang-up button and started to dial the secretary's number again when the doorbell buzzed. "Now what?" she muttered to herself as she hung up the phone to answer the door. Detective Jarvis was leaning against the door jamb. "Jarvis. Of course. To what do I owe this early Saturday morning visit?"

"I told you I might have more questions later, remember, Mrs. Steele? May I come in?"

Laura motioned him inside and closed the door behind them. Jimmy spotted her suitcase. "Going somewhere?"

"To London-" Laura lifted her chin in defiance.

"Oh, really? Was this trip planned before I asked you to stay in L.A. as a material witness or were you planning a quick get-away-perhaps to join your husband?" Jarvis' voice was cold.

"No. It wasn't planned. But you already knew that, didn't you, Detective Jarvis? Can we get to the point, please?" Laura was quickly losing patience with the detective's roundabout questioning.

"The point is you are still a material witness to the murder of Sean O'Connor, Mrs. Steele, so I have a right to detain you."

"And you know as well as I do that you can't hold me longer than forty-eight hours which will be up at noon today. My flight leaves at 3:05. Either ask your bloody questions or get out so I can get ready for my trip."

Jarvis stared at her for a moment, then slowly he pulled a document out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket. Remembering this trick from the other day, Laura asked sarcastically, "What is that? A warrant for my arrest?"

"It is a warrant-a search warrant for this apartment."

"And what is it you hope to find? You already have your smoking gun' as it were, Jarvis. The agency gun-the note and the witnesses. What else do you need? You're already convicted Remington anyway."

"Upon further checking into Sean O'Connor's background, we have found more leads that stop right at Mr. Steele's door. Can I call my men in, Mrs. Steele?"

Laura sighed heavily and raked a hand through her hair. She knew she had the legal right to refuse, but she was too tired to argue anymore. Her almost sleepless night and her worry about Rem had taken its toll. "Yes, Detective Jarvis, your men can search our apartment." While Laura sat on the sofa, a pillow clutched to her midsection, three officers scoured every nook and cranny of the apartment. She glanced at her watch every five minutes, urging the hands to move faster toward noon-and her freedom. With nothing else to occupy her mind, doubts about Rem started to crowd into her thoughts. What if she was wrong about his disappearance'? What if he really was missing, abducted by Columbini's henchmen? Laura hugged the pillow closer as her heart constricted in fear. God, she wished Jarvis' men would hurry up so she could leave. Suddenly her finely honed instincts told her something was wrong and Remington needed her. Laura threw the pillow down and picked up the phone. She dialed the international directory assistance number and asked the operator for the number of Scotland Yard. After jotting it down in case she needed it later, Laura asked the operator to connect her. What seemed to be an interminable amount of time passed before the phone on the other end was answered.

"Scotland Yard-Sergeant Jones." A crisp English accent greeted her.

"My name is Laura Holt Steele. May I speak to Chief Inspector Lombard, please?" Even though Inspector Lombard was not exactly her biggest fan, he was the only person she knew at Scotland Yard. She had learned long ago that it was always better to have a contact when digging for information.

"The Inspector is out on a case, ma'am-"

"I'm calling from America so I don't want to leave a message. Do you know when he will be back?"

"Hard to say exactly-"

"Well, then perhaps you can help me. Like I said my name is Laura Holt Steele. I'm Remington Steele's wife-"

"Remington Steele? The detective?" suddenly Laura had the bobby's full attention.

"Yes-"

"Just hold on, ma'am-" the phone clicked as she was put on hold before she could protest and Laura frowned. Apparently the fact that this was an international call-a very expensive international call-had not registered with the policeman. Laura drummed her fingers on the sofa cushion beside her and checked her watch. Just as she was about to hang up, suddenly the phone was picked up and another clipped English voice said:

"Mrs. Steele? I'm Inspector Rutherford."

"Hello, Inspector."

"Have you been in touch with your husband?" There was something in the policeman's tone and the phrasing of the question that reinforced Laura's suspicions that something was wrong with Remington. Fear gripped her heart again.

"He called me late Thursday night. I haven't heard from him since then. Has something happened, Inspector?"

"Mrs. Steele, I would really rather not discuss this on the phone."

"Inspector, please-"

"How soon could you arrive here, Mrs. Steele?"

Suddenly it dawned on Laura what the Inspector was trying to tell her. The phones could be bugged. He didn't want to divulge any more information than was necessary. Good Lord, what was Remington mixed up in this time?

"I' m flying out of here this afternoon. I am being detained as a material witness in a murder here and the forty- eight hour deadline is not up until then."

"Yes, I seem to remember a report on that case was sent here. A Detective Jarvis was handling it. I haven't had time to peruse it yet. But perhaps I can do something to help. I'll ring up Jarvis and explain the circumstances."

"As it happens Detective Jarvis is searching my apartment at this very moment." Laura said as Jarvis came back into the living room from the kitchen. The detective shot Laura a probing look, but she only responded with a sweet smile and pulled the phone from her ear to hold it out to him. "Detective Jarvis, Inspector Rutherford of Scotland Yard wants to speak with you."

After giving her another suspicious glare, Jimmy took the telephone from Laura. The whole extent of the conversation Laura could hear was a stream of yes' and yes, sirs.' Since she knew Rutherford outranked Jarvis even though they were in different police hierarchies, Laura took it as a good sign she would be on her way to London soon. That gave way to the mounting worry about Remington she had momentarily pushed aside to play her little game with Jarvis.

God, where was he? Was he ok? That feeling of dread that had never completely dissipated rushed to the forefront of her mind again. She closed her eyes against it.

"All right, Mrs. Steele, you won this round."' Jimmy Jarvis' voice broke into her reverie and Laura opened her eyes to look at him. "But this isn't over. When you and Mr. Steele return from London, we will need statements from both of you."

"Of course, Detective Jarvis-" she gave him another sweet smile. While the detective and his men cleared out of the apartment, Laura called Fred to come pick her up and she was soon on her way to the airport.

Darkness. Deadly quiet. His arms and legs barely moved in the quicksand of his fears as Remington reached out to grasp. What? The lurking shadows hid his prize from view. Then the haziness lifted and the fog morphed into Laura's face.

"Rem? Remington?" her mouth moved, but no sound emerged. She reached out to him, her hands pleading for his rescuing grasp, but he couldn't reach her. The quicksand was too thick. The gap between them was too wide. He couldn't reach her. Oh, Lord, he couldn't reach her!

"Laura!" his lips formed around her name, but only a silent scream emanated from him. He had to get to Laura. He had to rescue her. He attempted to swim through the quagmire, but the darkness pulled him down--down into its murky depths. Then the darkness lifted for a brief moment and he saw Columbini's face. The Shadow was laughing as he grabbed Laura and pulled her further out of Remington's reach. He yelled her name again, but the blackness claimed him once more.

"Has there been any change in Mr. Steele's condition?" the doctor asked the nurse standing by the bed as he entered Remington's hospital room.

"No, Doctor. He is still unconscious, even though there does seem to be more brain activity as if he was trying to fight his way into consciousness." The nurse replied. The doctor checked the heart monitor and the other machines in the room to gather information about Remington's vital signs. He jotted his notes down on Rem's chart.

"Continue to monitor him. He should have regained consciousness by now. Perhaps his wife's presence will bring him out. She will be here soon from America."

"Yes, Doctor." The young nurse sighed as she glanced at the handsome face of her patient. Of course he had a wife. Handsome men like him were snatched up quickly. The doctor and the nurse left Remington's room and met Laura, Mildred and Inspector Rutherford in the hallway.

"Mrs. Steele, this is Dr. Brandon. Doctor, Mrs. Laura Holt Steele and Mildred Krebs." Inspector Rutherford made the introductions.

"Doctor, how is-" Laura never finished her sentence.

"Laura!" From inside the hospital room came Remington's shout. Laura pushed past the doctor and rushed into the room to make a beeline for the bed. Remington was restless and he murmured something that sounded like No! Please don't take Laura. Laura! Laura! No. No-oooo!"

"Rem, I'm here." Laura grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "Nobody is taking me anywhere. I'm here, Remington, I'm here." Remington continued to moan and murmur and thrash around on the bed, apparently not hearing her reassurances. Laura glanced at the doctor who had followed her into the room, the inspector and Mildred bringing up the rear. "What is wrong? Can't you wake him from this nightmare?" she started to shake his shoulder in an attempt to wake him. "Rem, wake up. Love, I'm here." She leaned down to whisper in his ear as she fought the tears welling up in her eyes. "Remington-Harry, I'm here. I'm here."

The doctor moved over to Laura and gently steered her away from the bed. "Mrs. Steele, that won't do any good." He told her softly.

"Why?" Laura swiped at the wetness pooling in her eyes. "What is wrong with him?"

"He's been drugged. We have narrowed it down to one of two hallucinogens, but we still don't know which one he was given. The test results have not come back yet."

"Hallucinogen? As in LSD or angel dust?" Laura asked.

"Something like that, yes. Apparently the drug is so powerful that it causes deep unconsciousness, and the hallucinogen continues to work on the brain, causing the patient to have illusions."

"And so he thinks someone is trying to take me away." Laura deduced. The doctor only nodded. "Tell me how this happened."

The inspector jumped into the conversation. "We-had a breach in security, Mrs. Steele. That is why one of my men is stationed outside Mr. Steele's door. Two men dressed as policemen and a woman dressed as a nurse gained access to your husband's breakfast tray and placed the hallucinogen in his tea, we believe. The food was only half eaten, but the tea cup was empty."

Laura shared a knowing smile with Mildred. "That's our Mr. Steele. He hates hospital food, but he would finish his tea. Then what happened?"

"The impostors attempted to abduct Mr. Steele, but, on a tip, my men and I stopped it. The three perpetrators are now in jail."

"And you couldn't ask them what kind of drug they had given Remington?" Laura asked, kicking into full detective mode.

"They aren't talking, ma'am. Mrs. Steele, we need to ask you if you know of anyone who would want Mr. Steele incapacitated? Is he working on a case over here?" the inspector inquired.

Laura shook her head and scratched her left ear as she again exchanged glances with Mildred. "He came over on business, but not agency business, Inspector. He had to take care of some matters dealing with his late father's estate."

"And that would be Daniel Chalmers. Solicitors Smythe, Paddington and Hyde, correct?" the inspector consulted his notebook.

"Correct." Laura hesitated for a moment, wondering how much to tell the inspector of Rem's association with Columbini. Wondering if what she said would help or hurt her husband. She glanced over at Mildred and the older woman shook her head slightly. Laura stalled. "Mr. Steele has accumulated many enemies over the years, of course. Any one of them could have followed us from the States."

"Could you compile a list for us? It would aid in our investigation until Mr. Steele wakes up and can tell us more."

"Of course." Laura directed her next question to the doctor. "So you expect him to regain consciousness soon?"

"'Soon' can be such a relative term. I'm sorry I can't be more specific than that. He may have one visitor at a time." the doctor gave Mildred a pointed look. "You can decide among yourselves who will stay with him now."

"You stay, honey-" Mildred said, putting her arm around Laura's shoulders and squeezing. "I'll check us into the hotel and unpack. He needs you here-" the older woman's voice cracked with emotion. "But if he wakes up on your watch, tell him I'll be here later-and tell him-" now Mildred's voice failed her.

"I will, Mildred." Laura knew what Mildred wanted to say. She loved Remington like a son and she was as worried about him as Laura was. Suddenly Mildred leaned down to kiss Remington on the cheek and smoothed back the dark hair from his forehead as a mother would do. Laura felt tears spring to her eyes at Mildred's sweet gesture.

"Come back to us, Boss. We need you-" the secretary whispered. After one last squeeze of Laura's hand, Mildred left the room along with the inspector.

"Mrs. Steele, please continue talking to him, even though you think he can't hear you. Your voice just might bring him back." The doctor said, glancing over at Remington. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully now with no sign of more nightmares. "He has quieted down, it seems. But, if he wakes up, please call me or the nurse."

"Thank you, Doctor."

"I must be on my rounds. I'll check back in two hours. Perhaps we will have more information about the drug by then." The doctor left the room. Laura stood by the bed and gazed down at her husband. God, why hadn't she noticed how pale his face was before? The contrast between his pallid color and his raven black hair was pronounced now. Even his eyelashes were stark against his cheeks. She took his hand and leaned over to brush her lips across his dry lips.

"Come on, Mr. Steele. Mildred's right. We do need you. Yes, even I'm admitting it-the impossible woman who wears her independence on her sleeve. Oh, Rem-we have so many things to do yet. I know I don't admit this often, but -" she lifted his hand to her lips. "You are my life now. The agency is still important to me, but the life I share with you-" tears started to fall as all of her love for him bubbled up inside her. She had never loved anyone as much as she loved this man. Her earlier fears that she would lose herself in him held no power over her now. Remington did not try to change her. He accepted her as she was-and loved her as she was. That was the greatest gift he could have ever given her. "I can't even imagine my life without you in it now. Please, Rem, I need you by my side."

Laura continued to talk and cry until her tears were all spent. She dragged the only chair in the room over to Remington's bed and sank down into the cushions. Still holding his hand, she leaned her head back. Jet lag, too many late nights and worry finally took their toll on Laura. She dozed off into a restless sleep.

His eyes raked over her body, assessing her frankly. Laura wore nothing but a blanket of red, pink and yellow rose petals. Remington leaned over and blew the petals from her breasts, then his mouth trailed down her abdomen, scattering the flowers, until he reached the core of her pleasure. He felt Laura shiver under his ministrations and he extended his tongue to gently nip at her. Now she was writhing on the bed as her passion rose, heading for a crescendo. Now she was screaming his name in a plea for help. Suddenly the scene changed. Remington watched in helpless terror as Columbini tortured his beloved wife, his ever present cigar burning holes in Laura's skin. She screamed with the pain, but he could do nothing to stop the Shadow.

Laura awakened to a fierce tugging on her hand that also nearly took her arm out of its socket. Remington was thrashing around on the bed, obviously in the throes of another harrowing nightmare.

"Rem? Remington?" Laura leaned over, hoping he would hear her and wake up. But the nightmare continued to hold him in its horrendous grip. His flailing hands punched her in the eye with such force that Laura was momentarily stunned. When she realized she could not handle this situation, Laura reached up and stabbed the call button for the nurse. She circled the bed and found some ice in a Styrofoam cup on the bedside table. Laura dug out a cube and placed it on her swelling eye. The nurse appeared and immediately assessed the situation. She prepared a syringe and gave Remington a shot in the arm. Almost at once his thrashing stopped and he seemed to fall once again into a peaceful sleep.

"What happened, ma'am?" the nurse now noticed Laura's bruised eye.

"It's nothing. He hit me when he was thrashing around. Isn't there anything more you can do for him other than give him a sedative? I can't stand watching him in the throes of a nightmare from which he can't wake up." Laura was near tears. She would give anything to stop these horrific dreams from torturing Remington. God only knew what the nightmares contained.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. Not until we know what the hallucinogen was. Do you want a doctor to look at your eye?"

"No. Really, I'm fine."

"If the sedative starts to wear off or he wakes up, call me."

The nurse left the room and Laura sank down into the chair again. What was he dreaming, she thought as she gazed at her husband. Had the drug taken him back to the streets of Brixton-a young boy, unwanted-unloved, scrounging for any scraps of food he could find? Picking pockets for a few quid to pay for a place to sleep. Hiding in movie theaters and watching other people's lives so far removed from his own, longing to enter their world. She ached for the small boy still buried deep in the soul of her husband and Laura reached out to smooth back his dark hair from his forehead.

What was he dreaming? Had the drug taken him forward-to a confrontation with Columbini? Was he in the Shadow's clutches, struggling to remove himself from whatever torture the Shadow's warped mind had devised for him before he killed the man he knew as Paul Fabrini? Laura shivered at the thought and she started to talk to Remington again as much to calm her nerves as to establish a connection with him.

"I'm here, Rem. We'll handle this situation with Columbini like we handle everything- together. We're a team, remember? An unbeatable team." She continued to murmur reassurances to him until fatigue overtook her again and she slept, more peacefully this time.

"Laura?" In the netherworld between sleep and wakefulness, Laura thought she was dreaming that someone was calling her. Then she heard the voice again along with a weak tug on her hand. "Laura?"

Her brown eyes fluttered open-to look into a pair of still slightly hazy midnight blue ones and a beloved face creased with a crooked smile.


	5. Chapter 5

This story takes place after the fifth season. It also presumes that Remington and Laura were married again in a real ceremony with family and friends present. I do not own them and the story is not meant to infringe on the rights of those who do. It is for entertainment purposes only and I am not making any money from this. Feedback is always welcome.

Steele Shadowed by the Past - Part 5 

"Laura, you're here," Remington continued in a hoarse, thin voice. He was still disoriented, blinking in the harsh fluorescent light.

"And where else would I be?" Laura sprang from the chair and leaned over to kiss him with an intensity that told him how glad she was he was back.

"I thought . . .," a frown of concentration burrowed between his eyes as he tried to retrieve a fleeting memory that flitted on the edges of his consciousness, but he could not grab hold of it. "I don't know what I thought. My mind seems to have gone blank." Then Remington noticed for the first time the bruise around her eye, "What happened to your eye?" he reached out to brush his knuckles across it. Laura grimaced.

"Nothing, Rem. It's nothing." But her evasive answer and diverted gaze told another story. He turned her face toward him again, but Laura still wouldn't meet his eyes. She concentrated on a spot on the wall next to the bed.

"Laura? What happened?" Then a horrible thought occurred to him and his blue eyes narrowed in anger. "Columbini. Did one of Columbini's henchmen do this to you?" he would tear apart anyone who dared to hurt his Laura.

Laura shook her head. "I haven't seen Columbini's men. Can we just drop it? I told you-it's nothing."

"Don't tell me it's nothing. You have a black eye, Laura! Now I want to know who hit you!" His anger was now directed at her. Why was she being so blasted evasive about this? Who was she trying to protect-or was it her blasted need to be independent-to handle it herself?

"You-were having a nightmare, Rem." Laura's voice was so low he had to strain to hear her. "I was trying to-my face was a little too close-your fists-you weren't even conscious. I know you didn't mean to-"

"I hit you!" Shock and remorse were stamped all over his handsome face, but the tears in his blue eyes were Laura's undoing.

"Harry, it was an accident. I don't blame you."

"Good Lord, Laura, I hit you. I've never-I abhor men who hit women-can you forgive me? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He croaked, gathering his wife to him. He clung to her tightly.

"There's nothing to forgive." Laura pulled away and plowed her hands through his silky luxurious black hair to gaze into his eyes, then she leaned in again and kissed him-just as the door behind them opened.

"Bloody well figures-" Remington muttered and Laura giggled, relieved that her husband was returning to his normal self. The doctor came into the room and over to Rem's bedside.

"Welcome back, Mr. Steele." He examined the readings on the machines monitoring Rem's vital signs and made notes on his chart.

"How long was I out?" Rem asked as the doctor shone his penlight into his blue eyes.

"A little over 26 hours." The doctor frowned at his findings.

"Have you found out anything more about the drug he was given?" Laura asked.

"It was a new derivative of PCP, Mrs. Steele, mixed with a tranquilizer. What do you know about PCP?"

"Not much. Supposed to be the drug of the 80's and it's illegal. Is it addictive, Doctor? Will there be any long term effects on Rem?"

"It isn't a narcotic, no. It should be out of his system by tomorrow. But it can have long term effects. You may remember hearing about 'bad trips' from LSD in the 60's and something called flashbacks."

"You mean he could continue to have those awful nightmares?" Laura asked, trying to get a handle on what the doctor was telling her.

The doctor nodded. "That would be the most obvious, yes."

"Excuse me, but shouldn't I be in this discussion?" Remington cut into their conversation. "Even though Sherlock Holmes-Basil Rathbone, Nigel Bruce 1939 and afterwards-may have used drugs to stimulate his mind, I find they do not have the same effect on me. All they are giving me is a splitting headache and a bloody hard time following what you're saying."

"I'm sorry, Rem-" Laura apologized.

"So what else can I expect, Doctor, from this drug?"

"You could continue to have hallucinations and delusions over the next several days or weeks. It could even last months."

"So I could see little green monsters and purple dragons that aren't really there?"

"Yes, Mr. Steele, I'm afraid so."

"And there's nothing you can do to stop them?" Laura asked.

"I wish there was, Mrs. Steele, but no."

The room fell silent as Laura and Remington let this news sink in and contemplated the implications. Laura lifted her husband's hand to her lips and pressed a kiss in his palm.

"We'll handle it, Rem-together-as always." She whispered.

The doctor changed the subject. "But there is someone who is very real who has been waiting to see you. I'll only let her stay a few minutes, though. You still need rest, Mr. Steele." The doctor moved over to the door and opened it. Mildred barged into the room.

"Mildred! You brought Mildred with you?" Rem looked at his wife, aghast. Keeping Laura out of the line of fire from Columbini would be challenge enough. Now he also had to worry about keeping Mildred safe, too. The censure in his tone did not go unnoticed by his wife

"I-" Laura began, but Mildred broke in.

"Don't blame her, Boss. I kinda invited myself. I mean you ran off again without saying goodbye and then I heard Mr. Chalmers' apartment was blown up and you were missing. I was afraid you were wandering around London with amnesia-again." Mildred was busy plumping his pillow and fussing over him.

"And so you came all this way to give me another head clonk if I needed it, eh?" Remington asked, amused

"If it was necessary, but I really just wanted to be sure you were all right."

"And, as you can see, I'm fine. So, Doctor, when can I be released from this establishment?"

"Tomorrow morning at the earliest, barring any complications. The other residual effects should subside by then. But you must take it easy for a couple of days. I suggest you relax; take in some sights. I have told Inspector Rutherford that you will not be available for questioning until Thursday."

"But the case. Laura, I have a good lead-an old friend of Daniel's."

"We'll talk about it later, Remington."

"We'll do more than talk." He grabbed her by the lapel and pulled Laura to him to kiss her soundly, leaving no doubt what he had in mind. Laura kissed him back just as passionately, letting him know his message was received.

"Oh, Chief, I almost forgot." Mildred interrupted. "There was a message for you at the hotel." Rem and Laura parted as Mildred took the note from her purse and gave it to Remington. He read it.

"Who is it from?" Laura asked.

"Daniel's solicitor. About the explosion at Daniel's flat. The insurance and all that. More legal papers to sign. I'll take care of it later."

Remington was released from the hospital as promised the next morning. The doctor walked out beside them, giving them last minute instructions. None of them saw the man who trailed them to the door.

"Mr. Steele, I'm releasing you on the condition that you take it easy for the next few days. Mrs. Steele, I leave that care to you."

"And I'll take good care of him, Doctor." However, as soon as they were out of the doctor's sight, Rem and Laura headed for the tube while Mildred returned to the hotel. They jumped on the train.

The man from the hospital jumped on the train car behind them and took a seat where he had a clear view of them.

"Where are we going?" Laura asked her husband.

"To see the old friend I was telling you about-"

"Old friend? This old friend wouldn't be Felicia, would it?"

"Laura, you cut me to the quick." Remington put his hand to his chest as if he was mortally wounded. "I don't even know if Felicia is in London. She's probably in the South of France, relieving some poor unsuspecting male of his winnings at the baccarat table."

"And Blondie better stay there. Is this old friend male or female?"

"Male. His name is Rupert Whittingham." Rem regaled Laura with the stories of Daniel's and Rupert's exploits for the rest of the ride. They disembarked at the St. Paul's tube station and walked a few blocks to a palatial Victorian home. Neither one of them saw the stalker still following them. He took up a post in the stairwell leading to the lower level of the home. He placed a pair of head phones on his ears.

Remington knocked on the door. It was opened by a tall, attractive woman with platinum blonde hair and sparkling green eyes. When she saw Remington, those lovely eyes widened and she launched herself into his arms. "Harry!" She kissed him full on the lips while Laura seethed. He'd lied to her- again. This was Daniel's old friend? She looked closer in age to Rem and she had obviously been more than just a friend of the family if she greeted him like that. Laura should have known it would be an attractive female. Laura hated these old girlfriends who came crawling out of the woodwork. She could not compete with them. Rem didn't let the kiss linger. He pulled the woman's arms from around his neck and pushed her away.

"Hi, Sam. So good to see you, too. Last I heard you were in Cannes."

"I was, darling, but I had to come back when Father became ill."

"Rupert is ill?" Remington asked, uncertainty creeping into his voice. If Rupert was too ill to talk to him, he may have just run into another dead end in locating the Shadow.

"Oh, nothing to worry about, Harry, darling. Hardening of the arteries, the doctors say. He just has to take things easy and get plenty of rest." Sam gave Laura the once over. "Who is this?"

"Sam, this is my wife, Laura Holt-Steele. I go by the name Remington Steele now. Laura, this is Samantha Whittingham, Rupert's daughter."

The two women exchanged greetings coldly, each one appraising the other.

"Your wife? Well, I never thought I'd see the day when you would settle down, Harry, I mean Remington."

"Yes, well, life is full of surprises. Can we see Rupert for a few minutes?"

"Of course. This way-in the study." Sam led them down the hallway and Remington looked around at the familiar surroundings. He and Daniel had spent many pleasant evenings here. At the thought of Daniel, a lump blocked Remington's throat and an ache settled over his heart. Lord, he missed him! Especially now. Daniel would have known how to track down the Shadow. Rem wondered if he had sighed aloud because just then Laura slipped her arm through his and squeezed as if sensing his pain. Remington looked down at her and smiled weakly. As they entered the study, Rem was not prepared for the sight of Rupert Whittingham. The once active, vibrant man he remembered was now in a wheelchair, a blanket covering his lap. His face was age worn and his hair was completely white. Remington and Laura moved over to the wheelchair.

"Papa, there is someone here to see you."

Rupert Whittingham looked up. For a moment, there was no recognition in his rheumy blue eyes. Then he clasped Remington's hand. "Harry, dear boy-" he greeted him, his voice hoarse but his English accent still crisp.

"How are you, Rupert? It's been a long time." Rem pumped the frail hand once.

"That it has." Rupert's attention turned to Laura. "And who is this lovely lady?"

"Rupert Whittingham, my wife, Laura. Laura, Rupert Whittingham, an old friend of my father's."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Whittingham." Laura extended her hand and smiled at the older man. Rupert took her hand in his and raised it to his lips.

"Please, call me Rupert. Charmed to meet you, Laura." He glanced over at Rem and winked. "You did well for yourself in choosing a wife, Harry."

"Thank you." Laura said.

"I noticed you introduced me to your beautiful wife as a friend of your father's. So Daniel finally told you?"

Rem nodded. "Just before he died." Laura heard the catch in his voice and slipped her hand into his to let him know she was there.

"Good. I always thought it was a mistake for him to withhold the truth from you."

"You knew?" Rem asked.

"I guessed, Harry-and he didn't deny it. Did Daniel tell you anything else?"

The way Rupert phrased the question aroused Laura's curiosity. Even though Harry now knew Daniel was his father, the gaps in his past were still there and Laura knew Rem longed to fill them. But Rem did not seem to find the question odd.

"There wasn't a whole lot of time. We only had a few minutes together. I- was upset when he told me he was my father and ran off to think. He died before he even told me my real name and I haven't found my birth certificate yet."

"You haven't seen your birth certificate? So he didn't tell you about her?"

"Her? My mother? He told me a little bit about her-"

"No, he wouldn't. It hurt too much-to know how his good friend could betray him that way." Rupert seemed to be carrying on a different conversation and his eyes were fixed on the fireplace as if he was miles-or years-away. "But the Shadow-"

"The Shadow?" Rem jumped on the name, grateful that Rupert brought up the subject since he wasn't quite sure how to steer the conversation in that direction. "What about the Shadow? Do you know where he is, Rupert?"

"Where he is?" Rupert echoed, suddenly staring at Rem blankly.

"Yes. Where is he?"

"He's-the locket. Follow the locket."

"The locket? What locket?" Rem was as confused as Rupert seemed to be. But Rupert continued to mumble about the locket. Rem shot a puzzled, pleading look at Sam.

"I'm sorry, Harry. He has these spells."

"Do you know what he's trying to tell me-about this locket?" Rem knew he was grasping at straws, but right now that's all he had. Samantha shook her head.

"Sorry."

Rem pounded on the back of the chair in frustration. He attempted to bring the conversation back to the Shadow, but Rupert remained lost in his own little world. Sensing her husband's growing frustration, Laura tugged on his arm.

"We should go, Remington. It was nice to meet you, Samantha- Rupert." She pulled Rem toward the front door. As soon as they were outside, Remington stopped-a few feet from the stalker's position. The old man had done his duty, pointing them toward the locket, he thought. Now he had to find out if the great Remington Steele still had it in his possession-or if he had to plant an exact duplicate somewhere.

"Dammit, Laura-another bloody dead end. At this rate we are never going to find out where the Shadow is."

"Maybe." Laura replied thoughtfully. Rem glanced over at her and recognized the look his wife had-the look that always preceded a brilliant plan.

"You have that gleam in your eye. What are you thinking?"

"If all this has something to do with your family, Daniel's solicitor may be able to help."

"I suppose it's worth a shot. But I don't think Rupert's ranting on about a locket means anything. How is a blasted locket going to lead me to the Shadow? I don't even have a bloody locket-"

"Yes, you do!" Laura broke in. "Erin's locket. The one Sean gave you."

"It was a fake, Laura. It wasn't the locket I gave Erin. I sketched some heather plants on the back. It was her favorite flower. The sketches weren't there so I knew Sean wasn't my son."

"But what if Sean was merely meant to be the messenger to get the locket to you? It would certainly explain why he was killed so soon after he came to see you. He had outlived his usefulness. Someone wanted you to have that locket, Rem-just like Daniel wanted you to have the Earl of Claridge's watch."

"But there was no note accompanying it this time, eh?"

"There has to be another clue on it-or in it, though. Do you still have the locket?"

Remington rummaged through his pockets. The search yielded his passport, several pound notes and coins and an envelope-but no locket.

"I must have taken it out when I changed clothes at the flat. And now that's rubble. Another bloody dead end. We keep running into brick walls here, Laura."

"Not necessarily. Remember when my house was blown up? The piano was damaged, but it withstood the fire."

"A locket is hardly a piano, Laura." Remington pointed out, not believing she could even compare the two.

"But it's worth a look, isn't it? Come on."

Knowing it was a waste of breath to argue with her because she wouldn't listen to him anyhow, Remington reluctantly followed Laura to the tube station and they took the underground to South Kensington.

The stalker left his hiding place and disappeared.

Walking the few blocks to the now decimated site of the block of flats where Daniel had lived, they glanced around to check for bobbies, then started searching through the rubble.

The stalker watched them from a hiding place around the corner. It was a good thing he knew London as well as he did and he could take a short cut to South Kensington. Now they just had to find the locket he had planted.

Just as he was about to give up and tell Laura this was a fruitless search, Rem spotted a shiny object in the ashes. He leaned down to pick it up. It was the locket.

"Laura, I found it." He called to his wife who was at his side in an instant. She took it from him and examined it thoroughly-opening the clasp. Laura saw the initials on the inside.

"E.O. from J.T.?" Laura asked.

"Erin O'Connor from Johnny Todd. That's the name I was using when I came to live with Daniel-and met Erin."

Laura continued to examine the locket, turning it over in her hand to the smooth back. She removed the faded picture of a lovely young woman who she guessed was Erin and found a small heart scratched there-with faded letters that appeared to be a "C" and an "A". She couldn't make out the rest of the letters. Laura held the locket out to Rem again.

"C-A? Do you know what that means?"

Remington peered at the locket and Laura's discovery. "I don't know. That side of the locket would only hold pictures like most lockets."

"Could it be initials-or a name that starts with those letters? It appears the rest of the name has been worn away."

Rem thought for a long moment, but nothing clicked. He examined the letters again closely, then shook his head.

"Sorry, love, no. Unless you think that "A" could be an "O" and it's Columbini written out, I'm drawing a blank."

"No, it's definitely an "A", Remington, and Columbini would be too long to engrave in that space. Besides, I doubt Columbini would leave that blatant a clue. But there's something else nagging at me-" Laura closed her eyes in concentration as she tried to grab hold of what was bothering her. Then her brown eyes flew open and she started kicking at the rubble around her feet. She leaned down to pick up the remains of a fire damaged table leg. She held it up to Remington's gaze.

"What do I have here?"

"Really, Laura. This is hardly the time for guessing games."

"Answer the question, please, Mr. Steele."

"A scorched table leg."

"Exactly. A scorched table leg, barely recognizable." Now she held up the locket. "Now look at the locket. There is not a burn mark on it."

"So it withstood the fire. It is metal, Laura."

"Or it was placed here after the fire in the hope that we would come back and look for it."

"Now hold on. Rupert was the one who ranted on about the locket. Are you saying he faked his confusion? You saw him. He barely knew where he was-and he was one of Daniel's best friends. I can't believe he was in on this." Remington protested her conclusion.

Laura scratched her ear thoughtfully. "No. That's the hole in the idea. I don't know how Rupert figures into this or even if he does. But I still can't help believing that we were meant to find this locket in the rubble-that it was planted here."

"By whom? And how would they know we would come back here?"

"Columbini, perhaps. Or one of his henchmen. You thought one of them had given me this black eye, remember? And isn't it possible he could have bugged Rupert's place?" She looked around for any sign of someone following them, even moving over to the building next to what was the bank of flats, but Columbini's henchman had disappeared.

"Yes, that's possible. I wouldn't put anything past Columbini. But we don't even know if he or his henchmen are in London." Remington followed her.

"Well, Chalkie can't be your only contact here. Ask some of the others if they know where Columbini is."

"Unfortunately most of my mates have had to disappear for one reason or another. They would be hard to contact, Laura."

"Then this locket seems to be our only clue and Rupert did say to follow the locket."

"Laura, you can't be serious! You can't base a whole search on the nonsensical ravings of an old man."

"They can't be nonsensical if we were meant to find this locket, Rem." Laura pointed out as she held up the locket. "Besides, we've had less to go on and managed to solve the case, Mr. Steele. Let's go see Daniel's solicitor. Maybe he can shed some light on it."

They headed for the tube station.

Neither one of them noticed the stalker standing across the street, from the tube station, watching them. Then he turned and went into a nearby phone booth.

Eduardo Columbini sat at his desk in his office overlooking the Seine. In his business it was never a good idea to stay in one place for very long, thus his quick trip to the capital. But if his plan involving Fabrini proceeded on schedule, he would soon be back in Nice. There was a knock at the door.

"Enter."

Mario the henchman entered and moved over to the desk.

"Yes, Mario, your report."

"Fabrini was not killed in the fire, but he was injured, apparently. He is out of the hospital now. He goes by the name of Steele and he has a woman with him, apparently his wife."

"His wife?" Columbini puffed on his cigar, sending up a smoke screen that nearly obscured him from view. "So Fabrini has a wife. He has dealt us a new hand then, hasn't he? And that gives us an ace up our sleeve. But we won't play it just yet. We'll see how his hand plays out."

"One more thing. They have found the locket." the henchman continued.

"Excellent. And you will see to it that it leads them to its destination. Use all means necessary."

"Yes, sir."

Columbini sat back in his chair as Mario left the office. He continued to puff on his cigar, a thoughtful look on his face-that quickly grew into a malevolent smile.


	6. Chapter 6

This story takes place after the fifth season. It also presumes that Remington and Laura were married in a real ceremony with family and friends present. I do not own them and the story is not intended to infringe on the rights of those who do. It is for entertainment purposes only and I am not making any money from this. This part has a love scene with graphic sex. If such scenes offend, please don't read. Feedback is always welcome.

Steele Shadowed by the Past - Part 6 

Remington and Laura came out of the Holborn tube station and entered the Inns of Court to look for the office of Daniel's solicitor. Soon the Steeles sat in the office of Nigel Hyde, Daniel's solicitor. "I didn't expect to see you so soon, Mr. Steele" the lawyer looked over his half glasses at them. "Your doctor indicated that you would not be available to see anybody for a few days. You were resting?"

"Yes, well, I'm fine. Hate hospitals and doctors." He turned the conversation to the reason they were here. "Your message sounded urgent. Is there a problem with the claim on the insurance?"

"No. I have the police report and the fire report here." Mr. Hyde opened a file on his desk and picked up a sheet of paper to push it toward Mr. Steele. "Please go over the inventory of the contents of the flat and tell me if anything had been sold prior to the explosion."

Remington scanned the list quickly, then faltered at some of the items that brought back memories of his life with Daniel. The picture of Rem's mother Daniel kept on the nightstand next to his bed. A dueling pistol Daniel had used to wound a hated enemy. Artwork and sculptures Daniel had accumulated in his travels. The Queen Anne dining room set where he and Daniel had shared many meals. The high backed chairs in the sitting room where they sat to while away an evening, talking or planning their next escapade while puffing on cigars. The humidor that Daniel kept stocked with the best brands of cigars. So many memories. Even though the material things had perished in the flames, Rem would keep the memories in his heart. Remington pushed the sheet back to the lawyer. "Nothing was sold, Mr. Hyde." His voice caught on the tears he was desperately holding back.

Laura heard the shaky nuance in his tone and glanced over at him. Seeing the mistiness in his eyes, she took his hand and squeezed it. Laura felt a pang of guilt pierce her heart. She had done it again. With her impulsive idea of visiting Daniel's solicitor, she had not taken into consideration how hard-or how painful-it might be for Remington. Would they ever get past this pattern of hurting each other, no matter how good the intentions? Laura leaned close to his ear and whispered, "I'm sorry." Rem nodded, accepting her apology, still unable to speak for the emotional whirlwind swirling in him.

"Then, Mr. Steele, we will need an inventory of the contents of your case and any other items you brought to London with you." The scratching of Remington's pen was the only sound for the next few minutes as he compiled his list. Mr. Hyde placed it in the file when Rem had finished. "We will submit your claim and you should receive a check in a few weeks. Thank you for coming." He stood up to escort Laura and Remington to the door.

"I'm sure we'll be in touch." Remington said as he shook the lawyer's hand.

"Thank you for all of your help." Laura also shook his hand.

"You're welcome." Mr. Hyde answered,

She and Rem left the building and walked toward the tube station. For most of the way they were both lost in their own thoughts, Rem, the memories of Daniel that the business at the solicitors had raised and Laura was still thinking about the visit to Rupert's and the locket. She broke the silence.

"The C-A on the locket. You're sure those initials don't mean anything to you?"

"Yes, Laura, I'm sure. Why are you so bent on following this trail? You can't find someone on the basis of four bloody initials on a locket!" he exploded.

"Why not? You tracked down the Earl of Claridge on the basis of four initials on a pocket watch!" Laura shot back.

Remington was momentarily nonplused by her outburst. "That was different. It was a valid search. I was looking for my father. I also had a note to go with it-a name to start the search."

"And this isn't valid?"

"Not when we're chasing figments of Rupert's feeble mind, no. Laura, can we limit our search to one person, please? We did come here to find Columbini."

"And I think the locket could lead us to him." Laura was not about to give up on her hunch about the locket.

"Laura-"

"Maybe it's time to resurrect Mildred Krebs, bureaucrat. If only we had a computer-"

"Laura, you know Mildred doesn't like to impersonate government officials anymore-"

"Look, this isn't getting us anywhere. Let's go back to the hotel and rest. Regroup." The tube ride was taken in silence. While Laura put the locket in her pocket and pondered ways to find a computer for Mildred, Remington stared out the window of the train, even though there was nothing to see. He was emotionally drained, as limp as a dish rag put through a wringer. To his mind the afternoon had been a total waste. Rupert had been no help at all and now Laura insisted on chasing after a person with the initials C-A on the basis of Rupert's ranting. Rem sighed and closed his eyes. Lord, he was tired. He hadn't realized how exhausted he was until now. Remington drifted into sleep.

Daniel's picture of Remington's mother came to life. The young woman she had been stood beside him." His mother said. "Hello, Harry." Remington smiled at her and reached out to embrace her. Then her smile faded into a look of utter horror. Columbini appeared at her side and he yanked the young woman away. "She's mine." The Shadow started to laugh, an evil malevolent laugh. It echoed as he and the young woman faded from view. Remington bolted awake and felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked into Laura's worried brown eyes.

"Rem, are you ok?"

"Laura-" his head fell to her shoulder. He slid his arms around her, desperately needing some comfort.

Laura raised her hand to stroke his silky dark hair. "What was it? Another nightmare?" Laura asked after a few moments of silence. Rem nodded, then mumbled something about Columbini into her shoulder. Laura continued to hold him, smoothing his hair and massaging his back. They were attracting some attention from other people on the train, but Laura didn't care. Her only concern was Remington. Soon he lifted his head from her shoulder and gave her a weak smile.

The nightmare had affected him more than he wanted to admit to Laura. A strange feeling lingered. "Thank you." Rem said, gratitude and love shining out of his blue eyes.

"For what?"

"For being here."

"Always, Mr. Steele, always." Laura brushed her lips across his. They disembarked at the next stop and walked to the hotel. When they walked into their room, the connecting door opened. Mildred stood in the doorway. "There you are! I was beginning to get worried."

"Sorry, Mildred. We had a few stops to make." Laura replied as she guided Remington over to the bed.

Mildred came into the room. "How are you feeling, Boss?" the older lady asked, even though she could tell he was not his usual chipper self and there were lines of fatigue tracking his handsome face.

"Exhausted, Mildred. Utterly exhausted."

Laura took off his shoes and socks and then she pulled the duvet on the bed back to let him crawl under the covers. "So we are going to let him sleep and you and I will retire to your room." Laura leaned down to plant a kiss on her husband's forehead. His eyes were already closed and his breathing became even. She and Mildred moved into the next room and Laura shut the door behind her.

"Mildred, Mr. Steele had another nightmare. He dozed off on the tube coming in."

"Oh, poor Mr. Steele."

"Columbini figured into it again. But there may be a way for us to help him."

"You know I'll do anything to help. You're my kids."

"Good." Laura pulled out the locket. "We have two initials- C.A. on this locket."

"That's not much to go on, honey."

"But we met today with an old friend of Daniel's, Rupert Whittingham and his daughter Samantha. Maybe those names will yield some clues. We have to get you to a computer-"

"If you're thinking what I think you're thinking, Mrs. Steele, I can't do that! It's bad enough when they catch you impersonating a government official in the States. There's no telling what they would do to me in a foreign county if I was caught. Probably toss me in the slammer and throw away the key. I've heard about European jails."

"All right, Mildred. We'll find another way in. A government office is still probably our best bet. They would have the databases we need." Laura said, more to herself than to Mildred. Then her face lit up with an idea. "Scotland Yard! Of course. Come on, Mildred. We have to find some working clothes." Laura headed for the door.

"But, Mrs.Holt-Steele, what about the Chief? Should we leave him here all alone?"

"He'll be all right. He's sleeping. I'll leave him a note to let him know where we are."

"But, honey-" Mildred was still not sure about this plan of action.

"He can take care of himself, Mildred. We'll make sure the doors are locked. Besides, we can do a lot more for him at Scotland Yard than we can here watching him sleep." That seemed to convince Mildred. Laura again replaced the locket in her pocket and scribbled a note and left it on the armoire in their room, then she and Mildred left the room and locked the door behind them. The two women hopped the tube to take them to Covent Garden. There they made the rounds of shops. When they had gathered all of the makings of the costumes that would get them into Scotland Yard, they found a place to change near the City and emerged as charwomen. Mildred and Laura used the service entrance into the building with the aid of Laura's lock pick. Mildred found the maintenance closet and they each took a cleaning cart to complete their charade. They walked unnoticed through the halls, finally finding an empty office with an already activated computer. As Laura pretended to clean while acting as look-out, Mildred worked her magic in a matter of minutes and tore the sheet from the printer.

"Here you go, Mrs. Steele."

"We'll read it back at the hotel. Let's get out of here."

They returned to the hotel and changed their clothes. Laura checked on her husband, then went back into Mildred's room. "He's still asleep. I think this afternoon's activities wore him out more than he realized." She sat down on the bed and pulled out the computer print-out.

"What does it say, honey?"

"Just the usual-Rupert Whittingham was involved in several robberies-spent several years in jail-here in England and in France." Then Laura came across something that made her put the sheet down on her lap. "He also did business with Columbini-in France. That's apparently where he does most of his business. Why does everything come back to that man? Maybe if we go see Rupert again tomorrow, his mind will be clearer."

Suddenly desperate cries from the other room interrupted them. The two women rushed into the adjoining room to find Mr. Steele, sitting upright in the bed. His hands were wildly clutching at his clothes as if trying to brush something off them.

"Snakes! Get them off! Get them off!" he repeated over and over. Laura ran to the bed and tried to control him by grabbing his flailing arms. He was stronger and easily escaped her grip.

"Mildred, help me!" The secretary went to the other side of the bed and together they managed to hold down his arms.

"Do you have any idea what the Boss is yelling about?" Mildred asked.

"No. But we have to snap him out of it." Laura let go of his arm and cupped his face with both of her hands, forcing him to look at her. "Rem! Remington, there is nothing on you." To prove it, she pulled his shirt from the waistband of his slacks and unbuttoned it, then she tilted his head downward so he could see his bare chest-and no snakes. He stared at his chest and then raised his head to look at Laura. The wild look in his eyes faded a bit and he stared at his wife for a long moment.

"Laura?" he murmured groggily. Finally, Laura thought. I got through to him. Then the wild look reappeared on his face and Remington started to grasp at her clothes in the same way he had been seizing his own moments before. "Snakes! Laura, they're all over you now!"

"No, Rem, I'm fine. No snakes. No snakes." She grabbed his arms to stop him. "Rem-Harry-no snakes. Just Laura. Just Laura."

Remington came to himself and again stared at his wife, blinking as if he had just awakened from sleep. "Laura."

"Yes, Harry, it's me." She gathered him to her and cradled his head on her shoulder as she held him tight. God, she hated this, never knowing when he was going to be plagued by nightmares or delusions. What was Columbini's purpose in drugging the man he knew as Paul Fabrini? It looked like she would have to find him on her own. Remington was in no condition to go chasing after his nemesis. When Remington appeared to be over this latest delusion, Laura pushed him away gently and swept a few strands of black hair from his forehead. "Let's go have a bite to eat. What's your pleasure, Mr. Steele? French or Italian?"

"French, I believe."

"Then French it is. Why don't you freshen up a bit?" Laura pulled him from the bed and pushed him toward the bathroom. When the bathroom door closed behind him, she turned to Mildred. "Stay with him. I'm going to use your phone to call the airline."

"Where are you going, Mrs. Holt-Steele?"

"France. To see if I can find the elusive C-A by asking the elusive Mr. Columbini himself."

"No, Miss Holt-I mean Mrs. Holt-Steele, you can't do that!" Mildred was so excited she used Laura's maiden name. "You can't go without the boss! It's too dangerous!"

"Mildred, you saw him. He's in no condition to travel."

"Then wait until he is. You can't do this. How many times have I heard you say that you're a team-you work together?"

"Columbini could be anywhere by then. And, in this case, the team will just have to split up. I can take care of myself, Mildred. I'll leave in the morning before he wakes up; hopefully I can get a flight that early. And I promise I'll leave a note."

"And what am I supposed to tell him when he asks me where you've gone?"

"I just told you I was going to France, Mildred; I didn't specify where so you won't be lying if you tell him that." Laura disappeared into Mildred's room to make her phone call. The only flight to France that wasn't full was a red-eye leaving at 6:00 the next morning. Laura gave the agent her credit card number and indicated she would pick up her ticket at the gate. She went back into the adjoining room. Finding a French restaurant on nearby Brompton Road in the guidebook, they called for reservations. The maitre'd indicated they had just had a cancellation and they could be seated in half an hour. They left the hotel and made the short walk to Brompton Road.

The restaurant was elegant, replete with mirrors and crystal chandeliers that glowed like diamonds. They ate a leisurely dinner. The conversation was small talk; no mention was made of the case or Remington's drug induced delusions. Columbini's henchman sat in the back of the restaurant by the kitchen and kept a close eye on them.

They returned to the Diplomat Hotel, their stalker again following them to take up a post outside by a street lamp. Mildred disappeared into her room and Rem and Laura retired to theirs. Laura unpacked Remington's clothes and placed them in the armoire, along with the locket, then unpacked some of hers also, leaving the rest in the suitcase so she could make a quick getaway in the morning. Remington had stretched out on the bed after finding a Hitchcock movie on television. Laura took a nightgown out of the suitcase and moved into the bathroom. She showered, spritzed herself with perfume, took her pill and slipped into the chemise style nightgown. Laura glanced in the mirror, noting the low cut of the gown and a brightness in her eyes. She tingled with excitement, anticipating her husband's hands and mouth on her body. Ever since they had crossed that line in Ireland, their desire for each other had grown stronger as the months passed. Before they were married, they had made a pact never to take their anger to the bedroom. It had worked so far and made for such tender lovemaking, she was frequently left aching for more. And Remington was more than happy to oblige. He couldn't seem to get enough of her either. She hoped tonight would be one of those nights since they had not made love since the morning he left for England and she didn't know when they would be together again. That thought gave Laura pause for a moment about what she was planning to do tomorrow. Maybe she should wait until Remington was better able to travel and they could go to France together. Then it was quickly dismissed. If she didn't leave tomorrow, the Shadow and whoever C-A was could disappear. No, she had to do this. After all, she was doing it for him. In the meantime, she meant to give her husband an evening he wouldn't soon forget. Laura returned to the bedroom and laid on the bed beside Remington. She slipped her hand inside his shirt and caressed the hair-roughened flesh underneath the cloth. His eyes still glued to the television, Remington captured her hand and brought it up to his lips. "Laura, please. It's Hitchcock. Strangers On A Train.' The British version."

"No movies tonight, Harry," she fumbled for the remote and turned off the television. Then she continued her seduction by pressing small kisses along his jaw line and down his neck. Now Laura unbuttoned his shirt and started to alternately plant kisses on his torso and blow gently at his chest hair, a move that never failed to arouse him. It worked like a charm again.

Rem pulled Laura on top of him and she slid her arms around him. In the process her nightgown rode up to her waist. The ridge of his arousal pressed against her most intimate place, igniting her passion. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her deeply. His tongue darted out and traced the contours of her lips, then speared through the seam to explore the recesses of her mouth.

Laura groaned, a shard of desire zooming straight to her feminine core, then her tongue met his in a sensual dance.

The disappointments and horrific dreams of his day melted into nothingness in Laura's embrace. Rem didn't mind when she initiated their lovemaking; in fact, he liked it-immensely. Even after almost six months, a dream like quality still surrounded their lovemaking, at least to him. Being totally in love-and committed to-your partner made all the difference in the world between merely having sex and making love. When he and Laura made love, it was not just the joining of their bodies. It was a merging of their hearts-their souls. Their very being. It was a homecoming for him, being welcomed into a family he had never had as a child.

Rem's hands slipped from her face to trail over her shoulders and down her back. He inched the nightgown up until it was around her neck. Breaking their kiss long enough to pull it over her head , he tossed the gown to the floor. His blue eyes darkened as he took in the sight of his totally naked wife. He lowered his head to her right breast, further teasing and tormenting the nipple with his tongue until Laura moaned and cried out his name. His hand came up to fondle her other breast. It felt fuller than normal to him, no doubt swelled with the desire coursing through both of them. Laura's back arched, wanting, needing to draw closer to the source of the incredible pleasure he was giving to her. She twisted and fumbled with the his belt buckle, indicating she wanted him as naked as she was. Rem obliged her, deftly unbuckling his belt and making short work of the button and zipper of his slacks. He pulled his trousers down along with his boxers to his ankles and then toed them off to fall on the floor at the foot of the bed. Then he pulled off his shirt.

Laura expected him to pull her on top of him, his full erection indicated he was ready to love her-but after five years she should have realized Mr. Steele seldom did what she expected. This time was no exception. Rem grabbed her hips in his large hands and lifted her up slightly, then inched his way down to bury his head between her thighs and lathe the feminine bud inside her with his tongue. "Oh, my God! Rem-ing-ton!" Laura bucked against his mouth, her arms flailing as she searched for something solid to hold. She grabbed the headboard and felt herself spinning out of control-and out of rational thought-as Rem continued his slow, sensual ministrations. The pressure built until Laura couldn't take it anymore. She begged, "Oh, God, please-Rem- please." Rem acquiesced, his tongue spearing inside her. She shattered around him, wave after wave of pure pleasure washing over her as she fell forward, burying her face in the pillow to stifle her shout of surrender. As wilted as a much used dishrag, Laura collapsed on her husband's chest, the dark mat of silky hair tickling her cheek. Laura listened to his heart pound against her ear as she recovered from one of the most intense climaxes she had ever experienced.

"You o.k., love?" Rem whispered, planting a kiss on her temple.

Laura tilted her head to look at him, struck as always by the love shining in the depths of his blue eyes after they made love. "O.K.? No, I'm not o.k. I'm more than o.k. That was so-awesome, in the parlance of the day. How about you?"

Laura slid her hand down his chest to capture his still hard-and wet-erection. He throbbed in her hand, sending a thrill through her at the knowledge she gave him back some of the pleasure he had just given her.

"Ah, Laura-" Remington flipped Laura over on her back. She was so wet and soft that he slid easily into her, savoring every inch as her muscles tightened around him. They didn't need the few moments to adjust to each other this time. Rem thrust into her over and over and Laura met every one, her hips crashing against his. She planted her hands in his dark hair, damp now from exertion and rode the wave with him until they crested together in a shuddering climax that left both of them panting for breath.

Laura rested her head against his shoulder and played with his chest hair as they waited for their breathing to return to normal. When he could finally talk, Remington propped himself up on one elbow and lifted his hand to trace the curve of her cheek with one long, slender finger. "I love you so much, Laura." He said simply.

Laura was going to retort with a snappy comeback, but the utter love in his blue eyes stopped her. She had never seen in any other man's eyes what she saw in Remington's-not even her beloved father's. "I love you, too, Rem." There didn't seem to be anything else to say. Laura lowered her head to Rem's shoulder again and they laid down, entangled in each other's arms.

Enjoying the feel of skin against skin. Two hearts beating in perfect rhythm with each other. Then Laura broke the silence. "So when do you think you'll be ready to continue this search for C-A?"

"You just can't leave it alone, can you?" Remington asked, amusement tinging his voice.

"What?"

"This alleged case of ours." Rem brushed a kiss on her temple. "Perhaps in a couple of days." he continued. "I thought tomorrow we could take a leisurely river cruise down to Greenwich. Visit the National Maritime Museum. The Royal Observatory. See the Cutty Sark and the Gipsy Moth. We could take a picnic lunch and eat in Greenwich Park. Then go shopping. You could buy souvenirs for Frances and Donald and their kids."

"Sounds like a wonderful day. I'm sure Mildred will enjoy it, too."

Something in her voice caused Remington's instincts to go on full alert and he lifted his head from the pillow to look at her. His blue eyes bore into her brown ones, the probing look that gazed into her soul she had come to know so well. She shivered, struck by how well he knew her. "You say that as if only Mildred will be accompanying me." Then a thought hit him and his blue eyes narrowed. "You aren't entertaining any foolish notions of running off on this alleged case by yourself, are you?"

"Of course not, Rem." She avoided his eyes and walked her fingers through the mat of dark hair on his chest, intent on distracting him. "We're a team. Teams stick together. Watch each other's backs."

Remington captured her hand in his to prevent further seduction. He knew what she was trying to do and it wasn't going to work. Not this time. Rem felt his temper flaring. "Laura, cut the Scarlet O'Hara act and tell me what that steel trap mind of yours is planning."

"Nothing." She tried to remove her hand from his grip, but he tightened his hold, crushing some of the bones. "Rem, you're hurting me." He loosened his grip, but still had a firm hold on her hand. With his other hand he cupped her chin and forced her to look at him once more.

"You are planning a trip by yourself, aren't you?" Laura tried to look away, not wanting him to read her expression, but he held her head firmly in place. "Is that what your seduction was all about tonight? Leave me happy so I'll be more inclined to forgive you? Then you sneak out in the middle of the night. Is that what you were planning, Laura?" his blue eyes flashed with anger.

"No!" Laura yanked herself from his grip and scrambled to the edge of the bed to sit up, her back to him. "I was going to leave in the morning. I would have left you a note. As for the seduction, it wasn't like that. I wanted to be with you for the simple reason we had not been together for a few days, Remington. I was not trying to leave you happy."

"Well, you certainly haven't now, eh? Because I am not happy." He swung his legs over the side of the bed to stand up. Rem pulled on his shorts and went over to the window and stared out into the darkness, trying to calm down and get a grip on his anger. Lord, did the woman have a death wish? The tension in the room was so thick it would take a heavy duty ax to cut through it.

"I-I can't talk to you when you're like this. I'll go sleep in Mildred's room." Laura broke the oppressive silence, leaning down to pick up her nightgown.

Remington was at her side in an instant, one large hand clamped to her arm. "So are we back to that again?" the muscles in his jaw worked in anger.

"Back to what again?"

"You're running away, Laura. That's your answer to everything, isn't it? When things get too messy, too intense, you run."

"No, I would say that's more your style, Mr. Steele." Laura shot back, ignoring the hurt look that crossed his face at her pointed reference to his nefarious past. She yanked her arm out of his grip and slipped into her nightgown.

"But I'm not the one running off to take refuge in Mildred's room, am I? I'm still here, Laura." he said.

"You're running in your own way, Remington, by your refusal to talk about this calmly and rationally." She replied coldly.

"When you come up with a calm and rational plan, I'll be glad to talk about it!" Rem exploded, his anger finally getting the better of him. He grabbed her by the shoulders. "But the idea of running off to find Columbini is neither calm nor rational. It's fair suicidal-and I will not allow it." The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them and immediately he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Especially to a fiercely independent woman like Laura.

"You will not _allow_ it?! Are you _forbidding_ me to go?" Laura shrieked. "Mr. Steele, you do not tell me what I can and can't do. I did not promise to obey you in our wedding vows." She marched over to the luggage rack and picked up the suitcase she had packed earlier. Laura headed for the door. "I'll spend the night at the airport."

Just then the connecting door opened and Mildred, in her robe and slippers, stood in the doorway. "Hey, kids, keep it down. You'll wake everyone on this floor!"

"Sorry, Mildred, sorry." The older woman had said all she wanted to say and retreated to her room. Her interruption, though, defused the argument between Rem and Laura. They stared at each other for a long moment, then he scrubbed his face with his hand and broke the silence. "Laura, I-umm, listen, we're both tired. Do you think perhaps we can come to a compromise in the morning when our heads are clearer?"

"Sounds like a good plan, Mr. Steele." Laura put down the suitcase and moved back over to the bed to settle under the covers. Remington again shed his clothes and pulled on a pair of black silk pajama bottoms. He slipped in beside his wife and found the remote. "Will it bother you if I watch the end of the movie?" he asked. Laura smiled.

"No. Watch your movie, Rem." She turned over on her side away from the television and quickly fell asleep. When the movie was over, Remington punched the off button on the remote and settled next to Laura, spooning his body against hers.

He kissed her on the cheek, murmuring, "Sweet dreams, Laura." He was soon fast asleep, too.

In the cold darkness of early morning, Laura, dressed in jeans and a beige sweater, left a note on the armoire for her husband and picked up the suitcase to quietly leave the hotel room. Even though she hated leaving Remington behind, her instincts told her the trail to C-A and Columbini would grow cold if she didn't follow up on the leads she had right away. As she walked out of the Diplomat, the man who had been following them grabbed her from behind and clamped a chloroform-soaked cloth over her mouth. She struggled against the sickly smell, but lost the battle. Laura dropped the suitcase as she collapsed, unconscious, in the henchman's arms,. He dragged her to a nearby car while another Columbini henchman took the elevator up to the Steeles' room. He used a lock pick to enter and quietly searched the room. He replaced her note with one of his own. He raced back down the stairs and threw himself into another waiting car. It sped away into the foggy gloom of dawn.


	7. Chapter 7

STEELE SHADOWED BY THE PAST –Part 7

**STEELE SHADOWED BY THE PAST –Part 7**

This story takes place after the fifth season. It also presumes that Remington and Laura were married in a real ceremony with family and friends present. I do not own them and it is not intended to infringe on the rights of those who do. It is for entertainment purposes only and I am not making any money from this. Feedback is always welcome.

I'm really sorry I haven't updated this in so long, but the muse just left me. Seeing all of the new hits it was getting spurred me on. Feedback will spur it on even more (hint, hint).

Sunlight filtered through the window and fell on Remington to gently lure him from sleep. For the first time since he had come to England he had slept soundly. There had been no horrific nightmares. It must have been because Laura was now there beside him. He reached for her—but only captured empty space.

"Laura-?" Rem turned over and glanced around the room. She was nowhere to be found. Then remembering their disagreement last night, he threw the covers back and got out of bed. Murmurring, "she wouldn't-oh, Lord, please, tell me she wouldn't-" he rushed over to the bathroom to check if she was in there. "Laura-?!" Laura wasn't there either. Rem crossed over to the armoire and threw the doors open. Some of her clothes-and her suitcase were gone. She had gone. After he had told her not to go to France to track down Columbini, she had gone anyway. He ran his hand through his dark hair in frustration

"Mildred!" Rem now rushed over to the connecting door to the secretary's room and pounded. "Mildred! Open the door!" He continued until Mildred, dressed, but her hair still wet from her shower, cracked open the door as if she was afraid she knew what he was yelling about and she was afraid to face him-which she was. He pushed it open and took Mildred by the shoulders. "Where did she go, Mildred? Tell me where she went. To France? Damn her! She told me she would be open to a compromise-she told me we would clear this up in the morning-" he was so angry, his voice failed him.

"Boss, I tried to stop her, really, I did. But she wouldn't listen. You know how she is." Then the older woman thought of something that might get her off the hook. "But she told me she would leave you a note. Didn't she do that?"

That seemed to calm Remington down a little. "I didn't see one. Come to think of it, she told me that, too, during our argument last night." Rem and Mildred both went back into the Steeles' room and started looking for the note. He found it on top of the armoire- and all the color drained from his face as he read it. "Oh, my God, no!"

"What is it, Chief?"

"She didn't go after Columbini--he came after her. He has her, Mildred." He croaked as he stumbled to the bed and sat down.

Mildred grabbed the note from him and read: "Revenge is sweet. I now have something of value to you, Fabrini—your darling wife. I'll be in touch. Eduardo Columbini. (The Shadow.)" Mildred sank down on the bed beside Remington and put her arm around him as he buried his head in her shoulder. He now shivered in utter fear rather than anger.

"Oh, Lord, he has her. " Rem repeated over and over as he rocked back and forth like a small child. "I knew she shouldn't have come over here. But she just had to come. She is so obstinate-so hard headed. I couldn't stop her. I couldn't stop her. Oh, Lord, no. I knew how dangerous it was and now Columbini has her in his trap, not me. I'm so sorry, Laura-I'm so sorry" Suddenly he broke out of Mildred's embrace as anger swept over him again, not at Laura this time, but at Columbini. "That bugger! If he so much as harms a single hair on her head, I swear I will break him limb from limb. This time I'll make sure he's dead." Remington pulled Mildred to her feet. "Come on, Mildred. Go get packed. We're checking out of here. I'll call the airline." He reached for the phone.

"Shouldn't you wait for Columbini to call, Boss? And call Scotland Yard-or Interpol?"

"No. No police. Columbini has most of them in his pocket. I wouldn't know which ones to trust."

"But Inspector Rutherford-or Inspector Lombard, they were helpful when Mrs. Holt-Steele and I arrived."

"No, Mildred, no police!" Remington barked adamantly.

"All right, all right. But shouldn't we wait for Columbini's call? He said he'd be in touch."

"I can't wait around for that, Mildred. I have to find her-and him." He started to dial the front desk.

"But, Mr. Steele, where do we start looking? France is a big place."

That brought Remington up short. Mildred had a point. Columbini could be anywhere in France—for that matter, he could be anywhere in Europe. "Damn!" Rem slammed the receiver back into the cradle. "When did Laura tell you she was leaving, Mildred?"

"She was taking the red eye to France. Honest, Boss, that's all I know. That's all she would tell me so I wouldn't have to lie to you."

Remington glanced at his watch. It was 9:30. If she had sneaked out early in the morning, Laura had been gone for three or four hours now. Columbini's henchmen would have had time to fly her anywhere. He had forgotten how compact this continent was. He punched the bed in frustration-just as the phone rang. Remington lifted the receiver and swept it to his ear.

"Hello?" he barked.

The smooth voice of Eduardo Columbini floated through the wires.

"Hello, Fabrini-or should I say Remington Steele. You received my note, I trust."

"Yes. Where is she? If you hurt one hair on her head, I swear I will kill you, Columbini- and this time there will be no doubt that you are dead."

"Tut-tut. I don't believe you are in any position to make threats like that since I have your wife. If you don't do exactly what I say, she will die, just like poor Sean."

"What do you want, Columbini?"

"You, actually-through your beautiful wife. Catch the next plane to Nice, Fabrini. Go to the Hotel Le Perouse and check in. I will contact you there."

"Let me talk to her-" Remington said—but the phone went dead in his ear. "The bugger!" He dropped the receiver back into the cradle-hard.

"Where is she, Chief? What did he say? Did you talk to Mrs. Holt-Steele?"

"No, he hung up. All right, Mildred, now we know where to start. He told me to catch the next plane to Nice and go to the Hotel Le Perouse He'll contact us there again." Remington reached for the phone again and made the reservations while Mildred went back into her room to pack. He took a quick shower, dressed and threw his clothes into his suitcase, along with the clothes that Laura had left and the locket. As he picked up one of her blouses, he lifted it up to his nose to catch the essence of her left on the cloth. Tears sprung to his eyes and his throat clogged at the awful thought that he might never see her again-and they had argued the last night they were together. He didn't hear Mildred come back into the room until she put her hand on his shoulder.

"We'll find her, Boss, before he does anything. It'll be all right. You're a team-a team that can't be broken up."

"Thanks, Mildred." Remington hugged her briefly, then pushed her away and held her by the shoulders. He held her gaze intently. "But I want you to do exactly what I tell you to do, no questions asked and don't you go running off, do you understand? I don't want Columbini to get you, too."

"I promise, Mr. Steele. When does our plane leave?"

Remington consulted his watch. "About three hours."

"Then we'd better go." Mildred finished packing Laura's things and they left the hotel.

Laura glanced around the small, dimly lit room where she was being held, looking for a way out. The window was out: there were bars on it. The ceiling was smooth rock so there obviously wasn't an attic or crawl space up there. The only door was steel and Laura bet it was securely locked. Damn! Why had she tried to track down Columbini on her own? She had gotten herself into one hell of a mess here—and the note she had left for Rem and Mildred would only tell them she had gone to find Columbini in France. They didn't know she had been kidnapped by his henchmen. She knew Rem would still come after her—and Columbini. But it would be nigh impossible to find her now because she didn't even know if she was _in_ France. She had no idea where she was. Columbini's henchmen had kept her drugged until she had awakened in this room a few minutes ago so she had no signposts along the way to gauge their location. Judging from Columbini's vast European holdings she had seen on that computer read-out, she could be anywhere: still in England, France, Italy, Germany, Greece for that matter! She couldn't count on Remington to rescue her. She had to get out of this mess herself, wherever she was. Laura struggled harder against her bonds, ignoring the pain of the ropes burning into her skin. She stopped when she heard the steel door open and Mario who seemed to be the head henchman came into the room with a plate of food in one hand and a gun in the other. Laura's stomach growled at the aromas wafting from the plate and she realized she hadn't eaten since last night. Mario put the tray down on the table beside the bed and untied her, keeping his gun trained on her the whole time lest she still entertained any thoughts of escaping.

"Food, Mrs. Steele. After you eat, I will take you to the restroom."

Laura wolfed down the eggs, bacon, toast and coffee, to Mario's great amusement. When she had finished, he motioned to her with the gun and took her out of the room. They walked down the hallway to the bathroom.

"In here. You have two minutes and don't get any ideas of escaping. I'll be right out here and I won't hesitate to come in if you go over your time."

As Mario pulled her by the arm back towards her prison after she emerged from the bathroom, two voices raised in an argument distracted the henchman. Laura took her chance. She had confiscated the toilet paper roll holder from the holder: it wasn't much of a weapon, but it was the only thing she could find. Laura whipped it out of the waistband of her jeans and punched Mario in the stomach with it, at the same time bringing her leg up to try to kick the gun out of his hand. The henchman was too quick. He brought the gun down on Laura's forehead. She fell in an unconscious heap on the floor.

Remington and Mildred checked into the Hotel Le Perouse in Nice as instructed. As Rem signed the register, he asked the clerk:

"Have there been any messages for me?"

The clerk turned the register back around and checked the name, then glanced at the box for the room number he had just given him. "No, Mr. Steele, no messages."

"Thank you." Rem tapped the desk and picked up the luggage. He and Mildred took the lift to the second floor and found their connecting rooms to get settled. Mildred placed her suitcase on the bed and pulled open the curtains. She was treated to a spectacular view of Mediterranean Sea. She rushed over to the connecting door and pulled it open to rush into Mr. Steele's room.

"Boss, have you seen that view?"

She found Remington pacing the floor and nervously chewing on a hangnail on his little finger. He didn't seem to hear her.

"Mr. Steele?" Mildred tried again, this time blocking his way so he had to stop pacing.

"Huh?" he murmured as if coming out of a dream. "What, Mildred?"

"I said did you see that view? It's gorgeous."

"Ah, yes, gorgeous—"he agreed absently, even though Mildred noticed the curtains in his room were still drawn across the window. As she went to the window and opened the curtains, Remington continued his pacing and biting on the hangnail.

"You haven't even looked out there."

"Did you say something, Mildred?" Rem stopped his pacing, but continued to nibble on the finger.

"The view, Mr. Steele."

"I've seen the view, Mildred. I've been to Nice many times." He finally seemed to grasp what she was saying.

Giving up on him looking out the window, Mildred changed the subject. "Then what do you say we go get some lunch? We didn't eat breakfast since we had to leave London so fast."

"You go. I'm not really hungry. And someone has to be here when Columbini calls."

Mildred threw in the towel. It was obvious Mr. Steele's mind was on his missing wife, despite her efforts to divert his attention to something else. She started a search for the room service menu. "So what do you want to eat?" she asked when she found the menu.

"You order anything you want. Like I said I'm not hungry."

"Mr. Steele, you have to eat something." Mildred insisted. "You have to keep your strength up. I will not have you wasting away. You won't do Mrs. Holt-Steele any good that way."

The mention of Laura again seemed to bring him out of his absent-mindedness, but not quite in the way Mildred intended.

"Laura—oh, my God, Laura—" he sank down on the bed. The tears that never seemed to be far away the past few hours welled up in his eyes again. "Oh, Mildred, if anything happens to her, I'll never forgive myself." He croaked, then his voice failed him. Mildred sat down beside him and put her arm around him.

"We'll find her, Chief." She reassured him with more confidence than she actually felt.

"I just keep seeing Columbini doing things to her—horrible, torturous things—"Remington said as if Mildred hadn't spoken. "Why doesn't he call? He has to know we're here. Why doesn't he call?" He jumped up from the bed and resumed his pacing.

Mildred rose from the bed, too, and perused the menu. She went to the phone and ordered lunch, then replaced the menu. She sat down in the chair by the window and watched the people down below until a knock came at the door. Checking the peep hole first to see if it was indeed room service, Mildred opened the door and let the waiter in. He stopped the cart at the table and she signed for the food.

"Bon appetite-"the waiter said, then left the room. Mildred arranged the food on the table, then steered Mr. Steele over to the other chair and pushed him into it.

"Mildred, I told you I wasn't hungry" he protested.

"Eat anyway—"she demanded, serving him a helping of coq de vin. He took two bites, then laid his fork down. "Don't make me feed you." Mildred warned him. "It won't be pretty. Drink some wine. That'll relax you."

Remington pulled a face, but did as Mildred said and took a sip of wine. He managed to get most of the coq de vin down and finished off the excellent wine. "Good choices, Mildred. Excellent wine."

"I learned from the best." She grinned at him.

He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Forgive me running hot and cold?"

"I understand, Boss. You're worried about Mrs. Holt-Steele. So am I. Why don't you lay down for a while? I'll get my book and sit here with you."

"I am feeling a bit jet lagged." He suddenly yawned, the trip to France and his worry about Laura finally taking their toll. Remington laid down on the bed while Mildred went into her room to get the latest romance novel she had been reading and came back to sit down in the chair by the bed. He started nervously biting the hangnail again, then began twisting his wedding band. Mildred had never seen him do that before. He must be really anxious. Remington finally calmed down enough to close his eyes and drift off to sleep.

Darkness descended again as Remington stumbled through the mist. The fog lifted briefly and Columbini's face appeared, twisted in a malevolent smile. Then Rem saw Laura tied to a chair, struggling to get free. The smell of gasoline assailed his nose as Columbini poured the liquid around the room. Then Rem saw his nemesis light a match and throw it into the flammable liquid. As the bright orange flames engulfed Laura, she cried,

"Harry! Help me!"

But once more he couldn't reach her…the fire was too hot…the flames too high….

"No! Laura!" Remington, still in the throes of the nightmare, thrashed around on the bed, repeating over and over, "No! No! Laura!"

Mildred jumped up from the chair and rushed over to the bed. She tried to wake him.

"Mr. Steele!" Mildred shook him by the shoulders several times, but it didn't do any good. He was still firmly in the grasp of the nightmare. Hearing his haunting cries of his wife's name tore at Mildred's heart. What should she do? Suddenly Remington threw himself off the bed with such force, apparently trying to reach Laura—wherever she was—that he hit his head on the corner of the nightstand. The cries stopped.

Had he knocked himself out, Mildred wondered? Then she saw blood oozing from a cut on his temple. Mildred reached for the phone and called the front desk.

"Bonjour." A decidedly French accent came through the wires.

Mildred gave the room number, then continued, "I need a doctor up here right away."

"Qu'est ce?" The clerk asked.

Oh, great, I have someone who doesn't speak English, Mildred thought. She went into her room to retrieve the French-English dictionary she had bought at the airport, but she took so long that the clerk had hung up by the time she returned to the phone. Mildred dialed the front desk again.

"Bonjour—"

Mildred consulted the dictionary. "Je ne comprends pas la francais—Ingles-English?"

"Non-"

She flipped through more pages. "I need docteur en medecine." She gave the room number again—in French this time.

"Oui, Madam, oui." The phone clicked in her ear. She tried to lift Mr. Steele back up to the bed, but he was dead weight so she left him on the floor. Mildred went into the bathroom to get a washcloth and ran it under water. Coming back into the room, she squatted beside Mr. Steele and pressed the washcloth against the cut to try to stem the bleeding. Soon there was a knock at the door and Mildred rose to answer it after looking through the peep hole. A man in a white coat with a nametag that read 'Francois Duvalier' stood there."

"Oh, good, you're here. Do you speak English?"

"Yes, ma'am." His English was tinged with a heavy French accent. "What is the problem?"

"Come on in. It's my boss. He was having a nightmare and he fell off the bed and hit his head on the nightstand. He's unconscious and I haven't been able to raise him."

"I will take a look." The doctor came into the room and Mildred shut the door behind him. They crossed over to Mr. Steele and the doctor bent down. He took the bloody washcloth from Remington's head and examined the cut. A large bump was growing under it so there was a good chance he had a concussion. As the doctor placed a bandage over the cut, Remington stirred and moaned as he regained consciousness. His blue eyes opened and he tried to sit up, but vertigo hit him hard and he had to lay back down. He focused on Mildred and the doctor.

"Wh-what happened? Why am I on the floor?"

Mildred explained about the nightmare. "Do you remember it, Boss?"

"Vaguely, Mildred. Columbini had poured gasoline all around Laura and lit a match. I was trying to reach her. I threw myself to the floor under the flames."

"No, you threw yourself off the bed." Mildred added. "That's why you're on the floor."

"I believe you have a concussion. It would be wise to go to hospital right away." The doctor said.

Remington shook his head, grimacing at the pain that simple movement caused. "I can't. My wife's been kidnapped. We're waiting for the call from the kidnapper for the next move. I have to stay here." He managed to sit up, but this time as he tried to get to his feet, a searing pain shot through his ankle. "O-ow! My ankle."

"Sit on the bed. I will take a look." The doctor and Mildred helped Remington up and sat him on the edge of the bed. The doctor probed Mr. Steele's ankle while Mildred looked on anxiously. "It does not seem to be broken, but it may be sprained. I will put a bandage around it. You will need to rest it for a couple of days."

"I can't! Don't you understand? A bloody bugger has my wife! As soon as the call comes, we will have to go." Remington's anger swelled at this whole situation.

"But, Mr. Steele, you're in no condition to travel and you won't do Mrs. Holt-Steele any good—"

"Any good this way." Rem finished her sentence. He turned on her. "So I'll get a bloody cane! What am I supposed to do, Mildred, tell Columbini, 'Excuse me, but I have a bump on my head and a sprained ankle so I can't play this game of cat and mouse with you. He'll kill Laura, Mildred." his voice broke as tears pooled in his eyes. "You don't know him like I do. He'll kill her. I can't let that happen. She's my life. She's my lifeline. You know that." Now the tears overwhelmed him and he lost his ability to speak.

Mildred patted him on the arm. "I know." Tears welled up in her eyes, too. She did know how much he loved Laura and how long it had taken for them to finally get together after many false starts. "All right." Mildred addressed the doctor. "Just put the bandage on it. I'll make sure he puts it up as much as possible." The doctor complied and then told Remington where he could purchase a cane. After Mildred escorted the doctor to the door and closed it behind him, she moved back over to the bed. "You are a mess—" she said, affection tinging her voice. Remington gave her one of his boyish, sheepish half smiles and patted his chest in another familiar gesture. Mildred continued, "O.K. put your feet up like the doctor said." She swung his feet up on the bed and fluffed the pillow behind him, propping Remington up. "Do you want a newspaper to read?"

"Yes. See if they have the London Times. I didn't get a chance to read it this morning. And Mildred, would you make some tea?"

Mildred started the hot water for the tea, then called down to the front desk for a newspaper. Luckily this time she had a clerk who understood English. They passed the rest of the day, reading and in trivial conversation, again ordering room service for dinner and eating in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Remington found "The Ladykillers" on TV and they watched the movie. Mildred started to yawn halfway through it, and, when it was over, she stretched.

"Well, I'm going to call it a day. Will you be ok, Boss? I can stay here with you. I'll sleep in the chair."

"No need, Mildred. You get some sleep. I wager I won't get much, but I don't want to keep you up."

"G'night, Mr. Steele." She paused for a moment as if deciding what she should do, then she leaned over and kissed Remington on the cheek. "Pleasant dreams."

"I'm afraid I won't have pleasant dreams until Laura is back, safe in my arms."

"Yeah." Mildred kissed him again. "Well, good night."

Mildred disappeared through the connecting door. Remington found another movie and watched it late into the night.

Laura now sported a bandage on her forehead where Mario had hit her and had a bedpan in the corner to preclude any more trips to the bathroom. She was going crazy, now, cooped up in this room, tied to a chair. Laura only saw another soul when she was brought food twice a day and the henchman had his gun trained on her the whole time she ate. With nothing else to do, she found her mind trying to wrap around another means of escape, but her thoughts were so muddled from the growing bump on her head that no plan came to mind. A sound at the door brought Laura out of her reverie and she looked up. A man she had never seen before came into the room. He was rotund with black hair plastered to his head and puffy brown eyes.

"Mrs. Steele, I have been so anxious to meet you. I am Eduardo Columbini."

Laura instinctively shied away from Remington's nemesis. So this was Columbini. She usually was not afraid of someone at a first meeting, but this man had a gleam in his eye and a malevolent air about him that actually frightened her.

"Wh-what do you want?"

"Oh, surely you've figured that out by now. I'm luring your husband here and you're my insurance policy." He reached out to touch her and Laura recoiled. "Oh, don't worry, my dear. I'm not going to hurt you—unless of course Fabrini doesn't follow directions."

"But he doesn't know where I am. The note I left said I was in France, but if I'm not in France…" her voice trailed off.

"He knows. We replaced your note with one of our own."

"Then where am I?"

"You don't need to know that, my dear. I'm going to call Fabrini. I will allow you to talk to him briefly. Don't try any tricks—or coded messages—or I might have to hurt you."

He pulled back his coat to show her the hilt of a jewel encrusted knife in the waistband of his pants. Columbini untied Laura and brought her to her feet. With his hand firmly on her upper arm, he led her down the same hallway leading to the bathroom, then they took a sharp turn to the left. They ended up in what appeared to be Columbini's office. He dragged Laura over to the phone on the desk and dialed a number.

"Ah, Fabrinir—promptly answered, I see. You must have been waiting by the phone. Your next stop is Paris. Check in at the Hotel de Louvre and wait. I will call you again tonight at precisely 6 o'clock.."

Laura could hear Rem's voice rising in anger on the other end, even though she couldn't make out his words.

"I never promised you that, Mr. Steele. Is there a problem with you traveling? That's too bad because that will sign your wife's death warrant."

Rem's tone returned to normal. "Good. Now just to show my good faith, I will allow you to speak to your wife briefly. There will be no tricks—or the next thing you will hear on this phone is me torturing her, you understand?"

Laura grabbed the phone before Columbini could even give it to her. "Rem?"

"Laura! Oh, Lord, it is so good to hear your voice. I love you. Are you all right?"

Tears sprung to Laura's eyes at the sound of her beloved husband's voice, too. "Yes. Just a small bump on the head. I love you, too. Why can't you travel? Are you hurt?"

"I had another damn nightmare, resulting in a bump on the head and a bum ankle. I'm walking with a cane."

Columbini yanked the phone from Laura's hand, forestalling her "Wait!" and swept the receiver up to his ear.

"Now you have proof your wife is fine. Again I'll contact you at the Hotel de Louvre for the next step in your journey."

Laura heard Remington's "But—"before Columbini unceremoniously slammed the receiver back into the cradle. He grabbed Laura's arm again and returned her to her cell to tie her to the chair. After Columbini left, Laura let the emotions she had been holding back have full rein. A few tears slid down her cheeks. Harry was hurt—she had to find a way to get to him. She struggled against her bonds, again to no avail. Columbini had secured them even tighter than Mario had. But there had to be a way out of here. Think, Laura, think. But her mind was muddled with the knowledge that Rem was still having nightmares and he had been injured. No ideas came to her. She would have to wait for Remington.

Remington, now sporting a cane to help him walk on his sprained ankle, and Mildred checked into the Hotel de Louvre in Paris.

"This is ridiculous, being sent on a merry chase all over France—"he complained as they entered the lift to go to their rooms.

"I don't know. We are in Paris, Boss. The Eiffel Tower. The Louvre. Notre Dame. I've never been here before."

"We have no time for sightseeing, Mildred. Remember why we are here."

"I know. I know. But at least you know Mrs. Holt-Steele is all right."

"Yeah—so far. That's why we have to keep up this merry chase so she _stays_ alive."

They exited from the lift and found their rooms. After getting settled, Mildred knocked on the connecting door and came into his room when Remington answered.

"I thought since we now know when Columbini was gonna call, we could go down to the restaurant for lunch, Chief, instead of eating here."

"You go. I'm not hungry."

Mildred put her hands on her hips. "Do we have to go through this again?"

"All right, you win. I'll go."

After eating a delicious lunch of fricassee de poulet a'a'ancienne (chicken fricassee) and drinking some wine, Mildred managed to talk Mr. Steele into actually go sightseeing this afternoon since they were near the Louvre. But his mind was not on the world famous paintings: all he could think about was Laura in Columbini's hands. As the time drew closer to 6 o'clock, they returned to the hotel and waited. Precisely at 6 the phone rang. Rem snatched up the receiver.

"Columbini?"

"Fabrini, you are almost making this too easy. Now listen carefully to these instructions.

You might want to write them down since they are more complicated than any I have given you before. Your next stop is Italy. I have booked you on a flight that leaves Paris for Milan at 8:30 tomorrow morning. You will arrive in Milan at 10:00. From the airport you will go to the bus station where a bus leaves for Florence at 11:00. You will arrive in Florence at 13:44. From there you will take a bus to Naples through Rome. You will arrive in Naples at 17:20, just in time to take my call there at the station."

"Wait!" Remington calculated in his head the distances between these Italian cities and realized that this schedule left little room for error. "You're cutting it close. Bus travel can be precarious at best. Traffic on the roads, that sort of thing--"

"You'd better pray the buses run on time, Fabrini. Your wife's life depends on it."

The phone was slammed down in Remington's ear.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

_This story takes place after the 5th season. It presumes that Remington and Laura were married in a real ceremony with friends and family present. I don't own them and this is not meant to infringe on the rights of those who do. It is for entertainment purposes only and I am not making any money from this. Feedback is always welcome._

Swearing under his breath, Remington slammed the phone down, too.

"What did he say, Mr. Steele?" Mildred asked, a little hesitantly. She knew it wasn't good from the way he reacted.

"We're taking another road trip, Mildred—to Italy."

"Italy? Why is he sending us on this wild goose chase?"

"He's taunting me. I know what he's doing. He's retracing the steps of our last jaunt across Europe. I've had just about enough of this. Re-pack, Mildred. We are flying into Naples. I'm not taking the bloody bus. We have to be at the bus station at 17:20, I mean 5:20 tomorrow afternoon for his call. That'll give us plenty of time to get there."

But there were no flights out anywhere to Italy on any airline that night—and the earliest flight in the morning was the 8:30 one to Milan Columbini had already booked. Since his nemesis didn't know about his traveling companion, Rem made a reservation for Mildred, but that's as far as he got. When he tried to find out about flights from Milan to Naples tomorrow, the agent told him their systems were down and she couldn't give him that information. If he didn't know better, Remington could almost believe Columbini was manipulating his travel plans, but, of course, he couldn't be. He had no control over the European airline system. Remington and Mildred went down to the restaurant in the hotel to eat, but neither one of them was very hungry. They came back to the room and went to bed early. Rem fell into a fitful sleep, haunted by dreams of Columbini tormenting Laura in different ways.

Remington and Mildred arrived at the airport in plenty of time for their flight to Milan. As they hurried through the terminal, an announcement caught their attention.

"Paging Remington Steele. Remington Steele, please pick up the nearest white courtesy phone. Remington Steele."

Exchanging a look with Mildred who merely shrugged, as puzzled as he was, Rem moved over to the white phone a few feet from where he was standing. His heart pounded in his chest. Had Laura managed to escape Colimbini's clutches? Was she calling to tell him to come and pick her up?

"Steele here." Remington spoke into the phone.

"Mr. Steele, good morning." Columbini's voice floated through the wires, Remington's heart plummeted to his feet. "Change of plans, old man. Catch the next flight to London. Meet me at Hyde Park corner, Admiralty Arch tomorrow at noon. Your wife will be with me. Don't bring any cops. Come alone. If I so much as smell a cop, you can kiss your wife good-bye before I kill her. Got it?"

"I get it. Let me talk to-"

But the phone was again slammed down in his ear. "Bugger-" he hissed.

"What is it now, Boss?" Mildred asked, resigned to yet another change of plans.

"We're not going to Naples. He wants us in London by noon tomorrow. Come on."

Mildred followed her boss to the nearest ticket counter. He tried British Air and hit pay dirt the first time, snagging a flight that was leaving at ten. They boarded the plane and made the short trip to London. After landing at Heathrow, they took the tube to Victoria station, then on to the same hotel where they had stayed before their trip to France. They settled in, ordering room service for lunch and then Mildred talked Remington into going to Harrod's where they spent the afternoon. After a quick dinner that neither one of them really felt like eating, Remington and Mildred returned to the hotel. Remington found 'Charade' on TV and Mildred read her latest romance novel. Rem fell asleep in the middle of the movie. Mildred came into the room and turned off the TV, then she returned to her room and went to bed.

There was no rest for Laura. She was rudely awakened by Mario and pulled from her bed, forced to walk outside to an idling jet, ready to take off. Laura had no idea what time it was, but it had to be the middle of the night. A black curtain of darkness still carpeted the earth. Once inside, Laura was pushed down into one of the seats and again her arms were yanked behind her, causing her to wince, and bound tightly. The plane took off, hung in the air for what seemed to be only a few minutes and then landed again. Meanwhile Mario threw her purse in her lap after rummaging through it, apparently finding nothing that he would consider a threat. Laura surreptitiously moved her body to wheedle it so it was behind her and she felt her way through it. There was a lipstick, her wallet, her coin purse. Then she felt the long, thin steel of her lock pick. Somehow it had escaped the case where she kept it. He hadn't taken that! Columbini's henchmen were now enjoying hot coffee and talking, ignoring their prisoner, except for Mario who did throw periodic glances at her. Laura stopped her movements when he looked at her and gave him a weak smile. The plane continued to shudder beneath them, not moving an inch.

"Who are we waiting for?" Laura asked him.

"You do not need to know that, cherie-" Mario snapped, then went back to his coffee and conversation. Laura slowly maneuvered her purse to a place where she could reach inside and, after several tries, caught hold of her lock pick. She drew it out and started to saw on the rope. It gave way, freeing one hand and she pulled the other one free. Laura only hoped that the plane would not take off before she could put her plan in motion. Again she stopped when Mario glanced over at her. She winced as if the rope was too tight, the only ploy she thought would lure him over to her.

"Too tight?" Mario sneered, a malevolent smile spreading across his face.

"Yes. Can you-? Laura started to say, but he interrupted her.

"Good. That means I did my job well." he laughed.

So much for that ploy, Laura thought. Then another idea came to her. "Could I have something to drink? Some water, perhaps?"

"I don't see any harm in that." Mario rose from his seat and went around the beverage cart to disappear into the galley. He re-emerged with a styrofoam cup and moved over to her. As he held her head and brought the cup to her lips, Laura made her move. Her left hand whipped around and she threw the water into his face, then she drove her lock pick into his hand. Bellowing in pain, Mario staggered away from her. Tossing her purse unto her shoulder, Laura jumped up from her seat as the other henchmen headed toward her. She grabbed a coffee pot from the beverage cart and threw the hot liquid into the face of the other henchmen. Laura grabbed the gun that suddenly appeared in his hand and turned it on him. She squeezed off a shot and the man howled in pain, grabbing his shoulder where the bullet had lodged and fell to the floor. Laura ran toward the door of the plane...just as it started to close!

"No!" she murmured under her breath, Laura jumped over the closing door and landed hard on the landing strip, almost losing her balance. Since she didn't know for how long she had incapacitated the henchmen, Laura quickly made a decision to do the opposite of what she thought they would do and went behind the plane instead of heading away from the stairs. The early morning sun was now climbing into the eastern sky, red and orange banners trailing behind it as she ran across a field and into a forest. Laura soon came upon a wagon outside what appeared to be an abandoned barn. She slid underneath the canvas tarp covering the back, and, for the first time since she had escaped from the plane, let out a sigh of relief. Laura heard no sign of Columbini's henchmen following her. She took stock of her situation. She seemed to be out of danger now. Or was she? She had just escaped from one danger where she at least had known her nemesis straight into the midst of another totally unknown one. Laura had no idea where she was. She had minimal resources, she realized, after looking in her purse where she found only a few pounds and some coins from the trip to England. Laura had the sinking feeling, though, she was no longer in England. Luckily she did have credit cards. If only she could find a town Laura had no idea how far she had to run, but the effects from her daring escape and the fact that she had been up half the night caught up with her. She decided to lay down and rest for a few hours. Then she would decide what to do. Laura fell asleep, dreaming of being reunited with Remington and this whole nightmare with Columbini was over.

The telephone on the nightstand rang, rousing Remington from a deep sleep which for once was peaceful. He fumbled for the receiver and swept it up to his ear as he glanced at his watch. Six o'clock. Who would be calling at this time of morning? Unless... was it Columbini with another change of plans? Rem was suddenly wide awake. "Steele here."

"Mr. Steele, I'm afraid that your wife has precipitated a change of our plans." Columbini's smooth voice came through the wires.

"What happened? What have you done to her?"

"It's what she'd done to me, not the other way around, Fabrini. She escaped from my men, wounding three of them. I am not a happy man." Columbini snapped.

Oh, Laura, what have you done? Rem thought. He was glad and relieved at the news that Laura had escaped, but he wished she had not raised Columbini's ire in the process. He was an even more dangerous man when he was angry.

"Where is she?"

"See, that's the problem here, Fabrini." Columbini reverted back to calling Rem by the name he had been using when they had first met. "I don't know where she is. So now it has become a different game. Since both of us want her, for different reasons, of course, I propose that the first one of us to find her will win this round. But rest assured, Fabrini, the game is far from over."

"I accept your challenge. But where are you so at least I have a place to start?"

There was silence on the other end of the telephone as Columbini obviously pondered for a moment whether to tell him or not, then he said, "Fair enough, I guess. I'm in your home stomping grounds, the lovely island of Eire."

"You're in Ireland? Where? Which part?"

"I'll only give you a broad clue. Either County Waterford or County Kilkenny."

"That's not much of a clue, Columbini."

"That's all you're getting, Fabrini. I still have the advantage, since I'm in Ireland and you're still in England. And I will find her and she will pay for what she did to my men." Columbini threatened. "Happy hunting, Fabrini!" Columbini started to laugh and the telephone connection was broken in Rem's ear.

"Bugger again. Remington swung his legs over the side of the bed and rose to his feet, gingerly putting his weight on his sprained ankle. He reached for his cane and made his way over to the connecting door to Mildred's room. "Mildred! Mildred! Wake up!" he pounded on the door until the secretary opened it and peered out.

"Boss, do you know what time it is?" she asked sleepily.

"Yeah, yeah, I know it's early, but I just had another call from Columbini. Laura had escaped from his clutches and she's somewhere in Ireland. We have to find her before Columbini does."

"Good for Mrs. Holt-Steele. Where in Ireland?"

"I don't know. All Columbini would tell me is County Kilkenny or Waterford. We'll fly into Dublin and rent a car I'll call the airline. You get ready and pack."

Mildred shut the door and Rem limped over to the bed to sit down and he picked up the phone. Calling TWA, he reserved two seats on the 9:30 flight into Dublin. Then he quickly showered, dressed and threw his clothes into his suitcase. Mildred returned to his room , her suitcase in hand and they left to check out and take a taxi to the airport.

Why is my bed moving? Laura thought as she fought her way through the mists of sleep. Then the hard boards of the wagon reminded her where she had lain last night. Laura peered out from under the tarp to see that the wagon was entering what appeared to be a town. A sign at the side of the road read Dungarvan. But where was Dungarvan? She could smell the salty tang of the sea so she knew she was near water. Laura threw the tarp back and eased her way down from the wagon as it slowed. She opened her purse and gave the surprised driver two pounds for his trouble. "I know this is going to sound like a strange question, but where am I? What country?"

"You're in Ireland, mam. The little village of Dungarvan."

"And what is the nearest large city, sir?" she asked him, thankful that at least there wasn't any language barrier.

"Waterford, mum."

"And there's a bus or train to take me there?"

"Bus station is that way." he pointed straight ahead.

"Thank you." Laura started out in the direction of the station.

"All right, Mrs. Steele couldn't have traveled very far so this is what we're going to do." Columbini laid out a map of Ireland and his henchmen crowded around it. "Ian, you take the Waterford bus station, Guiseppe, you take the train station. Tim, you take the Dungarvan bus station. She could have headed there. Devin and Geoff, you take the Wexford train and bus stations. Tom and I will fly up to Dublin and head her off there. She has to be headed in one of those directions. With any luck we can capture her again and still meet her husband in London, albeit a little later than originally planned." The mobster took several snapshots of Laura out of his pocket and gave one to each of the henchmen. "This is what she looks like. Now go! She already has a head start on us."

The henchmen scattered to their respective posts.

Laura took a detour on the way to the station when she saw a street full of shops. Using her credit card, she bought a couple of change of clothes and a warm coat and then a small bag to hold them. It would look funny if she showed up at the bus station without any luggage. At the chemist she bought the toiletries she needed and a pair of reading glasses. Then Laura stopped at a restaurant to indulge in a a full Irish breakfast since she hadn't eaten since yesterday noon. There she found a bus timetable brochure that someone else had left behind and checked the time for the bus to Cork. If she could get to Shannon airport, she'd fly out of there to London since she guessed that Columbini would expect her to go to Dublin. Laura glanced around for a clock. When she didn't find one, she caught her waitress and asked, "What time do you have?"

"It's 10:30." the waitress snapped. "We need to get ready for lunch, mum."

Laura tucked the brochure in her pocket and left a small tip for the rude waitress, then left the restaurant. Catching a glimpse of herself in the window,. Laura smoothed down her messed hair as best she could, then headed out to look for a place where she could get out of these gamy clothes and into a new outfit. Even though it was probably too early to check into a B and B, maybe some kind proprietor would let her use a bedroom for a little while. But everywhere she went she was turned down because they were already cleaning the rooms for the next wave of tourists. So much for Irish hospitality, Laura thought. The last owner finally did take pity on her and let her in, but charged her double for the room. Laura took off her clothes and changed into the pair of navy pants and warm light blue sweater. Stuffing her old clothes into the bottom of the bag, Laura sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up the phone to make her long distance call to London. After two rings, the phone was picked up.

"Royale Hotel.'

"Hello, the Steele's room, please. 462."

"Mr. Steele and his companion checked out this morning, ma'am."

"What time?" Laura consulted her own watch.

"About eight, I believe."

"Did they say where they were headed?"

"I believe he said something about Ireland."

"No! Laura thought. If they flew into Dublin, they would walk right into Columbini's trap. There was no doubt in her mind that Columbini had henchmen stationed there, just waiting for them. Damn! Why couldn't someone invent a small phone that you cou'"ld take with you everywhere you went-like the mobile phone in the limo. Then they could have stayed in touch.

"Thank you."

Laura hung up and left the B and B after paying for the phone call she had just made. Before she headed for the bus station, Laura found a Western Union. She sent a telegram care of TWA at Heathrow airport to Remington to avoid Dublin and meet her at Ashford Castle, hoping that it would reach her husband and Mildred before they took off, then made her way to the station. She would stay there until the bus left. She slipped the glasses on her nose and twisted her hair into a bun at the back of her head in a semblance of a disguise just in case Columbini had men watching the station. Too bad she hadn't thought to get some hair dye at the chemist, she thought. That would really throw them off. As Laura approached the station, she glanced around to see if there was anyone that looked like they were watching for someone, but the station seemed to be full of people just waiting for a bus. Then she noticed a man who did seem to be paying close attention to anyone entering the station. And he looked vaguely familiar so she guessed he could be one of Columbini's henchmen. Laura looked around and spotted another mode of transportation. There was a jaunting car just going past. She hurried over and waved to get the driver's attention.

"Excuse me. Could you take me to the next town?"

"Bus station right there. " he pointed at the station.

"I know. I've decided I want a real taste of real Ireland and take a jaunting car." Laura hoped the reason sounded plausible.

The driver looked at her for a long moment, then said, "Cost ya 50 pounds."

"I've got it right here." Laura held out the money she had just taken out of the bank. Even though his fee was nearly all of it, she knew she could get more.

"Climb in." he jumped down to help her into the car, then he took her money and climbed back up into the driver's seat. They began their journey to...where?

"What is the next town?" Laura asked.

"Closest one is Ring."

"Is there a bus station there?"

"Not big enough for one."

"Then what is the next biggest town where I can find a bus station."

"Probably Youghal."

"Yawl?" Laura wasn't sure she heard the name right.

"That's what I said, lass. Yawl."

"And how far away is that from Ring?"

"About thirty one miles."

"Can I pay you more to take me to Youghal?"

The man shook his head. "Not my route. I only go to Ring." Those were the last words Laura got out of him. He turned his attention back to the road. In what seemed to be just a few minutes he stopped at what appeared to be a farm. The man climbed down and helped Laura out of her seat, then he mounted the jaunting car and left her. She looked around the small village, looking for another way to get to Youghal. Well, since she was here, she might as well ask the proprietors about transportation. 

"Paging Remington Steele, Remington Steele, please pick up the nearest red phone. Message for Remington Steele." the paging system blared as Remington and Mildred entered the line at the TWA ticket desk to pick up their tickets for Dublin.

"Who could that be?"

"Laura! It could be Laura. Stay here, Mildred and keep our space." Remington rushed over to the bank of phones and picked up the receiver to the first one. "Laura?"

There was silence for a moment, then a female voice said, "This message is for Remington Steele."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm Remington Steele."

"Mr. Steele, there is a telegram for you at the TWA desk. Please pick it up."

"Thank you."

Rem hung up the phone and returned to the line. "I have a telegram."

Mildred grabbed his arm. "Maybe that's from Mrs. Holt-Steele."

The line seemed to move interminably slow, but they finally reached the desk. Remington produced his passport and showed it to the attendant.

"Remington Steele. I have a telegram waiting for me."

"Oh, yes, Mr. Steele." The woman reached under the counter and brought out a yellow envelope. She handed it to Remington. He quickly opened it and read:

"11-40, Harry. Stop. Avoid Dublin-Columbini trap. Stop. Meet me at A. Castle. Stop. Love you. Stop. Laura.'

"Is it from Mrs. Holt-Steele, boss?"

"Yes, Mildred." the 11-40 code was their secret message known only to them to tell each other it was indeed from the other person. The lack of the code could also mean that the communication was sent under duress. "Change of plans. We're flying into Shannon instead of Dublin. Two tickets, please."

The attendant booked them on a 1:00 flight and they took seats in the boarding area to wait for the plane. As Remington

looked around, his eyes caught the eyes of a woman and he stared at her. She had the same blue eyes and dark hair he did!

Who in the world was she? Then she met his eyes and smiled. Not wanting her to think he was flirting with her, Rem tore his eyes away. But she walked over to him anyway and came to a halt.

"Is your name Harry—Harry Chalmers?" she asked without preamble.

"Who wants to know?" Rem asked.

"My name is Cara. And I think I have something you have waited a long time to see." Cara reached into her purse and took out a piece of paper. She handed it to him. He opened it.

"A birth certificate?"

"Your birth certificate." she pointed out the top name. "Harrison Daniel Chalmers." she pointed out the other name. "Cara Maeve Chalmers. I'm your twin sister."

"You'll forgive me if I'm a little skeptical. I mean a woman comes up to me in an airport and gives me a birth certificate and claims to be my sister. Anybody could forge a birth certificate. I know. I've done it." he handed the certificate back to Cara.

"Of course. I don't blame you for being skeptical." she pulled out a picture from her purse and gave it to Remington. He started when he recognized the picture as one he had seen countless times on a dresser in Daniel's bedroom. His father had told him she was the love of his life who had died way too young.

"Boss, the resemblance." Mildred put in, but Rem waved her away.

"Where did you get that?" Remington demanded.

"It's a picture of my mother. _Our _mother." The woman was beautiful with raven colored hair and blue eyes. "I take it you've seen it before?"

"Yes-m-many times." Remington couldn't speak for a moment. Why hadn't Daniel told him he had a sister when he told him he was his father? The picture in Daniel's flat had been destroyed in the fire so the picture in Cara's possession had to be real and he couldn't deny the resemblance. "I-I don't know what to say—or do here, Cara."

"A hug, maybe?" she smiled at him. He opened his arms and she stepped closer so they could embrace.

He had a family! Gratitude and a warm feeling of belonging surged through him. If only Laura were here. That would make this complete. Cara stepped away.

"Cara, this is Mildred Krebs, the secretary at Remington Steele Investigations. Mildred, my sister."

"I'm so pleased to meet you, Cara. Boss, are you going to call Mrs. Holt-Steele and tell her about this?"

"Mrs. Holt-Steele? I also have a sister-in-law?"

"Yes. Laura. You'll love her."

"I want to hear about our father. I understand you knew him for several years as a mentor before he told you he was our father."

So Remington told Cara story after story about Daniel and their escapades while they waited for Rem's plane.

"And I want you to meet my adopted father." Cara beckoned a man standing a few feet away and Remington was stunned to see Eduard Columbini approach him.

"Hello, Fabrini."

"What is this—a set-up?" Remington accused Cara. He started to leave, but Mario and another one of Columbini's henchmen stopped him.

"Set you up? I didn't know you knew each other. Papa, you never told me." she sounded so contrite that Rem had to believe she was telling the truth. He could believe that Cara had no idea her adopted father was an international mobster and ruthless killer. He probably lead her to believe he was just a successful businessman.

"Cara, I just want you to spend more time with your brother." Columbini glanced over at Mildred. "I have no quarrel with your traveling companion. She is free to go."

"I'm not going anywhere." Mildred stood by her boss stubbornly.

"Mildred, go. Take the agency credit card and stay at a hotel, in case Laura comes back."

"But, Chief-" Mildred protested." Rem reached into his coat pocket and handed her a ticket jacket.

"Go, Mildred. You can do more for us in London. Here's your original ticket there."

"Boss, I already-" Rem gave her a look and shook his head slightly. She realized Rem was trying to tell her something right under Columbini's nose. "Okay, thanks." she took the ticket jacket and, with one last hopeless glance at Mr. Steele,

Mildred picked up her bag and moved away.

"All right, Columbini, what now?"

"You are coming with me. And I have a network of my men looking for your wife. And we will find her, believe me. Cara, will you leave us for a while? I want to talk to your brother—alone."

"Yes, Papa." Cara moved away. Columbini took Rem's arm and pulled him to a corner. He looked around to make sure they could not be overheard.

"You are going to do a special job for me. Have you heard of the Skibbereen emerald."

"Of course. A priceless gem from the O'Hara collection."

"It is going on display at the National Museum of Ireland in Dublin—and you are going to steal it for me. Or your wife will die."

"Dublin? But you're sending Laura to London."

"Sleight of hand, Fabrini. While we're looking over here-" Columbini held one hand out-"something else is happening over here." he held his other hand out. "Since this caper could be dangerous, I will let you send a telegram to your wife so you can say what you need to say and tell her to meet you back in London."

"I don't know where Laura is." Rem replied.

"Oh, I believe you do. You know exactly where she is. Or where you are going to meet her, to be more exact. So we are going to the nearest Western Union and you are going to send a telegram to A. Castle."

When they reached the Western Union desk, Harry started to fill our the application when Columbini said, "And don't try anything funny. No secret codes or anything. I want her to think she is merely meeting you in London. I'm going to read it. Got it?"

Harry nodded and continued the application. When he finished, Columbini took it from him and read:

'Laura, love. Stop. Please meet me in London at our hotel. Stop. Mildred is fine and has gone on ahead.

Stop. Catch up with John Robie. I love you and I would never willingly hurt you. Please remember .'

"John Robie?" Columbini asked suspiciously.

"Another traveling companion of ours. He'll wonder where I am, too."

Columbini seemed to be satisfied with that explanation.

Rem just hoped that Laura would get the message he was trying to send.

Columbine and his henchmen led Harry away.


	9. Chapter 9

_This story takes place after the fifth season. It also presumes that Laura and Remington were married_

_again in a ceremony that included family and friends. I do not own them and this story is not meant to_

_infringe on the rights of those who do. I am not making any momentary gain from this: it is for_

_Entertainment purposes only. Feedback is always welcome._

Steele Shadowed by the Past-Chapter 9

Laura pulled into the parking lot of Ashford Castle and alighted from her rental car. She glanced up at the huge structure in front of her. It looked the same, she thought. Laura was glad the new owners had decided not to change anything. She went inside and moved over to the reception desk. A young woman greeted her.

"Welcome to Ashford Castle. May I help you?"

"Yes, I hope so. I don't have a reservation, but do you have a room available?"

"We just had a cancelation so there is one. Please sign the register." As Laura did, the young woman took down a key from the hanger and slid it across the counter towards Laura.

"My husband may be joining me later. Is that all right?"

"Of course." the young woman turned the registration book around and looked at Laura's name. "Mrs. Remington Steele? A telegram came for you." the young woman went through some papers on the desk and picked out the yellow sheet. She handed it to Laura. Sliding the envelope open, she read the communique.

The first thing she noticed was the Rem had not used their 11-40 at the beginning. Then his 'catch up with John Robie' was a puzzle. And what did he mean when he said he would never willingly hurt her?

"Thank you."

Laura paused at the bottom of the stairs, remembering the last time she had been there, when Rem had carried her up the steps. She went upstairs to her room and laid down on her bed, holding the telegram aloft in her hand. Catch up with John Robie. John Robie. Why did that name sound familiar? It wasn't one of the names on Rem's passports. Then it came to her. Rem had taken her to see '**To** **Catch** **A Thief'** two weeks ago. John Robie had been the name of the character Cary Grant played in the movie. So what was Remington trying to tell her? She tried to recall the plot of the movie. Robie was a reformed thief who was accused of another robbery he didn't commit. He then had to find out who the real thief was to prove his innocence. O.K. So was he going to be involved in a robbery? He couldn't! Laura refused to believe that Rem was going to rob something. How could he? Remington Steele's face was not only known all over the United States but it was also known internationally due to their past adventures abroad. If he was caught and exposed as a thief, Remington Steele Investigations-_her_ agency's reputation would be ruined. All of the years building it up would be for naught. He had done it again. Laura had thought he had left his past behind him, but here it was, biting them in the posterior once more. Alternating between being furious with him, worried about him and just plain loving him, Laura stewed for several moments as thoughts whirled in her head and she couldn't grab hold of any of them. Finally she decided on a course of action. Laura picked up the phone and called the airline to get her on the next flight of London. Disappointed that there were none today, she made a reservation for the first one tomorrow. She would need to rise early to make it, but she had the strongest feeling that time was of the essence. Laura hung up the phone and left the room to take a stroll in the gardens. Then she went into the nearest town to eat dinner and stopped at a chemist to purchase black hair dye to make her disguise complete. Laura guessed that Columbini would have henchmen in London, too. She returned to the castle, dyed her hair and packed, then went to bed. The trip to London was uneventful as she sailed through both Shannon airport and Heathrow, walking past henchmen she vaguely recalled in Columbini's employ. She took the tube to the hotel where they had begun this journey.

"What room is Mildred Krebs in?"

The clerk looked it up in the computer. "225."

Laura took the lift to the second floor and knocked at the door. Mildred opened the door. "Mildred, I'm so glad you're all right!" Laura started to enter the room, but Mildred stopped her.

"Excuse me, do I know you?" Mildred asked suspiciously.

"It's me, Mildred, Laura." she whipped off her glasses. "I dyed my hair as part of the disguise."

Mildred looked at her more closely. "Mrs. Holt-Steele? Why are you in disguise anyway?"

"Columbini's henchmen are everywhere. I escaped from them once before. I wasn't going to let them capture me again."

"Yeah. How did you manage that?"

"A cup of water, my lock pick and a hot pot of coffee in the face did the trick."

"Huh?"

"It's a long story, Mildred—one I don't have time to tell right now. Where's Mr. Steele?"

"Oh, Mrs. Holt-Steele, Columbini has him. And he has a sister. We met her—a twin sister."

"Who has a sister?" Laura asked, puzzled.

"Mr. Steele. He has a twin sister. And she looks like him. But she's Columbini's adopted daughter."

"Wait, Mildred. Start at the beginning. You're confusing me."

Mildred told Laura about the encounter in the airport. "And he now knows his real name, too. It's Harrison Daniel Chalmers."

"So he is Harry.' Laura didn't feel the sense of satisfaction of knowing her husband's real name that she thought she would. He had been Remington Steele for so long—and had proved himself to have many of the qualities she had envisioned from her 'made up' man that it was almost anti-climatic.

"Will we change the name of the agency?" Mildred asked.

"No. He'll still be Remington Steele to the world. Now we have a more pressing matter. I have reason to believe that Mr. Steele is going to be involved in a robbery."

"Oh, honey, no."

"Yes. He gave me a cryptic clue in the telegram he sent me at Ashford Castle. So we need to get a hold of-" Laura answered, but Mildred interrupted as she remembered something.

"Mrs. Holt-Steele, wait. I think the boss gave me a clue, too." she went over to her purse and pulled out the ticket jacket to hand to Laura. She turned it over to find a note scrawled in Remington's handwriting. "Things are not as they seem. Trust me."

"When did he give you this, Mildred?"

"It was funny. He gave me this jacket and said, "Here's your ticket to London.' Then he gave me a look and I knew he was trying to tell me something right under Columbini's nose."

"All right. So he referenced the movie 'To Catch A Thief' which leaves me to believe he's going to steal something, but then he tells you things are not what they seem and he knew you would tell me. Now why would he give us two different statements?" They both pondered the statements for a few moments, then an idea hit Laura. "He's being forced to do it—the robbery That's why he said things are not what they seem. Columbini has something on him. His sister maybe. So we have to find out where the robbery is going to take place and stop Mr. Steele. Do you have any idea where Columbini was taking him?"

Mildred shook her head. "He sent me away before I heard that part of the conversation."

"O.k. There are two possibilities. Here in England or in Ireland."

"That's a whole lot of territory, honey."

"No, chances are the robbery will be in a large city since that's where the museums are so that leaves here in London or Dublin. We have to find a newspaper that lists the temporary exhibits at the major museums to determine if there are any jewels or art on display.'

The two ladies left the room and found a nearby newspaper stand where they picked up a copy of The Time Out for London and the Irish Times for Dublin. Returning to the room, they each took one periodical and glanced through them. Laura found something interesting.

"There's an exhibit at the Tate of a collection of famous nudes. That would be right up his alley." she turned the page and found something else. "And the Ardaugh jewel collection is going to be at the British Museum."

"In Ireland there is an art exhibit at the Chester Beatty Library at Dublin Castle, the Skibbereeen emerald at the National Museum of Ireland and a manuscript collection at Trinity College." Mildred read off, then she paused for a moment and went on, "Mrs. Holt-Steele, that's five possibilities in two different cities in two different countries. How are we going to choose? What if we choose the wrong one—or what if we don't get to Mr. Steele in time to stop him? Do you see the problem here?"

"But John Robie was a jewel thief so he's going after jewels. That leaves the Ardaugh collection or the Skibbereen emerald. He can't do this! He'll ruin everything—everything I've worked for—everything _I've_ worked for—everything _I've_ built up all these years. _My_ agency-" Laura was on the verge of tears.

"_Your_ agency? Doesn't it belong to both you and Mr. Steele?" Mildred pointed out gently.

"You're right, of course. I'm still getting used to that idea." Laura wiped the wetness from her eyes and squared her shoulders. "We have to think like Columbini. Which one of those collections would be worth the most? Which one? Let's go over them again. The Ardaugh collection or the Skibbereen emerald. We have to do this. I know it's impossible, Mildred, but we have to try. Think. Think. I can't stay here and do nothing." Finally her resolve broke and tears streamed down Laura's cheeks. The stress of the past few days and worry about Rem finally caught up with her. Mildred hugged her and shed a few tears herself. Then Laura wiped her eyes and said to Mildred, "O.K. This isn't getting us anywhere. Give me that ticket jacket again, Mildred. He must have left us another clue. I can't believe he managed to give you that warning and not something else to lead us to where the robbery would take place." Laura took the ticket jacket and turned it over and over until she noticed a small picture on the inside. She brought it closer to get a better look. "Mildred, what does that look like to you?" she held the ticket jacket out to the secretary. Mildred looked at it.

"It looks like a four leaf clover."

"No, it's a shamrock! Thank you, Harry, I knew you wouldn't let us down." Laura exclaimed. "Shamrocks grow in Ireland and they are green—like emeralds. He's going to steal the Skibbereen emerald. We have to find out when the display opens." Laura picked up the newspaper again and perused the section where the exhibit was mentioned. "O.K. The display opens tomorrow. Would he try to steal it the first night? No, that would be too obvious. Probably the second or third night. But we'll go to Dublin tomorrow anyway. And he won't be the only person in the National Museum of Ireland that night after hours."

"But, honey, won't that be dangerous?"

"How else am I going to stop him, Mildred?" Laura moved over to the bed and sat down to pick up the phone. She called the airline and made two reservations for a noon flight. After she replaced the receiver, she continued, "I can take care of myself. I've done it many times."

"But this Columbini character is a killer. He killed that young man Sean. I can't let you do this. Mr. Steele wouldn't want you-"

"Mildred, it'll be all right, I promise." Laura reassured the older woman, even though Laura was not that confident herself. "Now I didn't eat breakfast this morning. Let's call room service and get some lunch or would you rather eat out?"

"Mr. Columbini's henchmen, remember? We'd better stay in."

Mildred called room service and ordered lunch.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Columbini?" Mario said as he walked into the mobster's office.

"Yes, Mario. How is our guest?" his lips curled in a sardonic smile when referring to Remington.

"Restless. He's eager to carry out his assignment and get back to his wife."

"I bet he is." Columbini blew out a smoke ring. "About that. I've decided he's a loose end we can't afford. So as soon as you have the emerald, I want you to kill Fabrini. Make it look like a security guard caught him. Are there are any leads on his wife?"

"No. No sign of her in Dublin or London. The men are still looking. We have them on the hotel in London where she stayed before."

"All right. As soon as you find her, bring her to me."

"Yes, sir." Mario left the office and Columbini blew several more smoke rings as the sardonic smile stayed pasted to his face.

Cara covered her mouth with her hand in horror as she heard her adopted father put a hit out on her brother. She had come into the back anteroom to talk to her father about something, but now she backed out and ran down the hallway. She had to tell Harry about this and get him to trust her that what she was saying was true. The two times she had been in to see her brother, he had been distant and their conversation had been stilted. He still blamed her for turning him over to her adopted father—his sworn enemy. Cara moved down another hallway and came to a stop in front of the room where Harry was being held. The guard grinned at her lasciviously.

"Hello, Ms. Cara." his eyes looked her up and down.

"Hello. Joseph. May I go in and speak to my brother?"

"I'll have to frisk you. Make sure you aren't carrying any weapon like a knife or a gun to help him escape." his black eyes glittered as he started to place his hands on the sides of her breasts, but she pulled away.

"I don't have a knife or a gun and if you don't get your hands off of me, I'll tell my father what you did." Cara said icily, the glint in her blue eyes turning them gray. "Didn't my father tell you I could have unlimited access to my brother?"

"All right. All right." Joseph pulled the key out of his pocket and opened the door. She walked in and the door closed behind her. Rem stood up.

"Cara. To what do I owe this visit?"

"Harry, he's going to kill you." she whispered so that Joseph couldn't hear. "My father is going to kill you as soon as you steal the emerald."

"Now give me one good reason why I should believe you. You're the reason I'm in this room in the first place. Because I'm telling the truth. I heard him tell Mario! Please, Harry, believe me."

"I can't. Has he found Laura?"

"Not yet. They're still looking."

"Then why would he kill me? I'm the bait he's using to bring Laura in. And I can't take the chance he'll kill her unless I steal the emerald. This is a no win situation. I'm damned if I steal the emerald because your father will kill me and damned if I don't because he'll kill Laura."

They both fell silent for a moment, then an idea hit Cara. "All right. What if I go in your place? I'll steal the emerald. Papa won't kill me. I'll use your cat burglar suit or whatever you use for stealing things."

"You're a good eight inches shorter than me. He would know the different right away. Why would you even suggest an idea like that?"

"I told you. He told Mario to kill you. Then I'll go with you. I assure you Papa won't kill anyone in front of me."

"No! You aren't going to be involved in this." It suddenly dawned on Harry his sister could be telling the truth. Offering to put herself in his place or going with him proved it. Maybe he had misjudged Cara. Even though they had met only a couple of days ago, it was obvious a sibling love had sprung up between them—at least on her part. He was still wary of her, but he could feel the barrier around his heart cracking. Then Harry had an idea.

"Cara, could you get a telegram out to Laura?"

"Yes. I'm free to come and go as I please. I'll just tell Papa I'm going shopping."

"O.K. It's short and easy to remember. '11-40. How Tony persuaded Swann to kill Margot in Hitchcock's Dial M we saw last month. Stop.' I hope she gets it."

Cara scribbled the message on an envelope she found in her purse, then she asked, "Where do you want me to send it?"

"The Royale hotel in London and Heathrow airport, no, Dublin airport. If she read my clues right, she'll fly in there."

"I could meet her at the airport."

"Again I don't want you involved in this."

"I'm already involved, big brother. I'm sending this telegram for you." Cara held up the envelope and tapped it.

Oh, terrific, Harry thought. His sister was showing the same stubborn streak his wife had. He had no chance against two independent women! Cara stuck the note in the waistband of her skirt when the door clanked open and she heard her adoptive father speaking to the guard outside. Columbini came into the room and seemed surprised to see Cara.

"Planning an escape with your brother, are you, darling Cara?" An easy smile came to his lips, but his eyes were hard.

"Of course not, Papa." Cara smiled back at him. "Harry was just telling me about his life in Los Angeles and his bride, Laura. I'm so excited to meet her."

"All in due time." Columbini answered, his tone hinting at Harry's worst nightmare. Had he found Laura?

"If you hurt a hair on her head, Columbini, I swear I will-"

"I haven't found her—yet, Fabrini. Cara, will you excuse us? I'm want to talk to your brother."

"Of course. I'm going into town to do some shopping." Cara said easily, throwing one last glance at Harry as she left the room.

"All right, since you are so restless about this robbery, we are going to the National Museum and scout out the security system. I figure as Remington Steel, they will be all too happy to show the world famous detective how it works."

"Lead on." Harry was only too happy to leave his prison and finally do something other than wait. Columbini lead the way out with Harry trailing him. The mobster stopped and whispered to the guard outside.

"While we're gone, place a bug in this room. And tell Joseph to follow Cara. I think they were talking about something other than life in Los Angeles."

"Yes, sir."

Columbini caught up with Harry and they took a limo to Kildare Street where the National Museum was located. They paid the admittance fee and walked into the museum. Picking up a brochure of the layout, they located the Skibbereen emerald exhibit and walked through the museum until they found it. It appeared to be unprotected, but Harry and Columbini both knew that wasn't the case. Harry walked over to a guard.

"Hello, my good man. I'm Remington Steele from Los Angeles, here in your facility to see the latest in security systems in Europe and I understand it is being used to guard the Skibbereen emerald." he pumped the man's hand in his best Remington Steele persona.

"Please to meet you, Mr. Steele. Of course we have all heard of you." The man was obviously fawning over him. "Let me get the curator of the exhibit. He can tell you all about it."

The guard disappeared for a moment and returned with a tall, thin man with rumpled red hair and green eyes. "Mr. Steele, we're honored to have you with us. Now what would you like to know?"

"How you are protecting the Skibbereen emerald. I've heard of its beauty and value, of course. Several million, I understand."

"Two point five to be exact." the curator then explained the entire security system to Rem who nodded in acknowledgement.

"Yes, I see, I see. How many guards are on duty?"

"Two usually. But for this exhibit we've added two more."

"Splendid idea to add another layer of protection. Splendid. Well, I think I've seen everything I need to see. Than you for your time." Harry and Columbini left the museum and returned to the limo.

Cara went into a local tourist office and send the telegram to Laura. Then she spotted Joseph in the window, looking into the store. Why was he here? Was he following her? She went up and down the aisles of the shop, picking up a book on Dublin and a glass with the logo of one of Ireland's famous beers. Cara went to the cashier and paid for her purchases, then she left the shop. As she walked down the street toward her car, she kept an eye out for Joseph. Cara turned a corner and ducked into a doorway to wait for him.

"Why are you following me?" she jumped out when he approached. "Trying to cop another feel? Good luck."

"Your father ordered me to follow you."

"Why?"

"I have no idea Ms. Cara. I just do what he tells me. But I think it has something to do with your brother."

"Harry? He hasn't done anything."

"Your father doesn't agree. And I must say for only knowing him for only a few days, you are quick to come to his defense."

"He's my brother. _Twin_ brother. Of course I'd come to his defense."

"One might wonder about your loyalty to your father."

"It's not a contest and I resent being placed in a situation where I have to choose one over the other. I shouldn't even be talking about this. You are only an employee."

"An employee hired to look after you. What are you doing here at a tourist shop? It's hardly your usual choice for your shopping sprees. Marks and Spencer and Brown and Thomas are more your speed."

"I was getting a few souvenirs for Harry. Do you want to see?" she opened the bag and pulled out the glass and the book. "Happy?"

"All right, all right. Are you ready to go back?"

"Yes, I'm done."

Joseph lead Cara away from the tourist office.

Laura and Mildred arrived at Heathrow via the tube and went to the American gate to check in.

"Oh, Mrs. Holt-Steele, a telegram came for you." the agent handed Laura the yellow envelope and she slid it open to pull out the sheet inside.

_'How Tony persuaded Swann to kill Margo in Dial M for Murder.'_

"What does it say, honey?" Mildred asked.

Laura told her, then added, "Another clue. We saw Dial M for Murder two weeks ago. Tony wanted Margo dead so he could inherit her money. He found an old college friend to do it—by blackmailing him. That's it! Columbini is blackmailing him. He has something on Rem. So if he is stealing something, he's doing it under duress because Columbini is blackmailing him."

The two women sat down in the gate area and waited for the call to board the plane. The plane was on time and they landed in Dublin. Going through baggage claim, they picked up their luggage and went through customs. They used the hotel shuttle to go to their hotel on St. Stephen's green. Unpacking, they settled in.

"Now what, Mrs. Holt-Steele?" Mildred asked.

"We're going to the National Museum and see the Skibbereen emerald. We'll find a city map of Dublin."

"But, honey, Columbin's men might be there, waiting for you."

"I'm counting on it, Mildred." Laura replied. "That's the only way I'm going to find Rem."

"That could be dangerous!" Mildred protested. "You can't-"

"Mildred, I can take care of myself."

"I don't like it, honey—even if it will reunite you and Mr. Steele. It's like you're bait."

"Then you don't have to come with me. Stay here at the hotel." Laura headed for the door.

"No way. I'm going with you as far as the museum."

"Then let's go."

They left the room and returned to the lobby. Laura picked up a city map of Dublin and asked the desk clerk where the National Museum was located and found out it was only one street over. Leaving the hotel, they found the museum and went inside. Laura picked up a brochure and she and Mildred walked around, joining the crowd around the emeralds. Looking around for a sign of any of Columbini's men, Laura didn't see anyone who looked familiar so she and Mildred took in the rest of the museum. But, as they left, a couple of men surrounded them and grabbed Laura by the arm.

"Your disguise didn't work this time, Mrs. Fabrini. Come with us. Mr. Columbini would like to see you." one of them hissed in her ear. She recognized him as the one she had thrown coffee in his face.

They forced her into a car as Mildred protested,

"Hey! What are you doing? Mrs. Holt-Steele!"

The car drove off.

"I have just picked up your wife." Columbini told Harry as the mobster came into his room.

"When can I see her?"

"In due time, Fabrini. In due time."

"That isn't an answer. When can I see her or could it be you don't _really _have her?"

"Oh, I have her all right. Come with me."

He lead Henry down the hallway and into another room—with a one way mirror. On the other side, Laura sat on the cot in her room.

"Laura!" Harry called. "Laura! I love you."

"She can't hear you or see you."

"When are you going to let us see each other? I haven't seen my wife in a while."

"And, like I told you, in due time. You are on my schedule now, Fabrini—and so is your wife." They

returned to Harry's room and he was locked inside again.

"Why are you keeping us apart?"

"Because I can. And remember she's my insurance that you will steal the Skibbereen emerald. Don't forget that's the whole reason you're here." A malevolent smile touched Columbini's face as he left the room. Harry punched the wall in frustration. He was right. Laura was the bait and she had apparently fallen into the trap—on purpose if he knew Laura. Now he had to figure out how to keep her safe and hold off Columbini. Slowly a plan formed in his mind, one he hoped would keep Laura safe.

And keep him out of jail.

"Showtime-" one of the henchmen said as he came into the room and grabbed Harry by the arm. He lead him out and pushed him into the back seat of a van.

Cara, dressed in a black turtleneck and dark pants, crouched in the bushes, blending into the darkness. She was going to help Harry whether he wanted it or not. Cara was not going to let her adopted father kiss the brother she had just found. She glided through the blackness to open the back door of the van and climbed in. Shutting the door quietly, she hid under a tarp. When they reached the museum, the van came to a stop outside the service door. As she started to throw off the tarp, the back door of the van opened. Cara pulled the tarp over her again and froze. She heard the clank of the grappling hook and other equipment being taken from the back of the van. Then her heart sank as she heard the click of the lock.

Now how was she going to get out of here...

"Come, my dear." Columbini said as he opened the door to the room where Laura was being held.

"It's about time." Laura shot back as he lead her out of the room. Suddenly Columbini pulled out a gun and poked it into her side.

"Just remember, do not try to escape or it will be the last thing you do. Unlike the last time on the plane, you will not escape me. There's one more thing I must do before we leave." Columbini nudged Laura forward down the hallway to take a turn into what appeared to be his office. He sat Laura down in the chair and tied her wrists. Columbini picked up the phone and dialed 'O".

"Operator, will you please give me the number of the Garda station nearest to the National Museum." he scribbled down the number and cut off the call, then dialed the new number. "Hello, Garda? I have a tip that there will be an attempt to steal the Skibbereen emerald at the National Museum this evening. Who am I? An anonymous citizen." he replaced the receiver and pulled Laura to her feet. Laura frowned as tears stung her eyes. Apparently Columbini's plan was to hold the gun on Rem as if he was holding him for the police. Rem was walking into a trap—and there was nothing she could do to warn him. There didn't seem to be any way out of this. She had never felt so hopeless in her life...

Rem shot a spear gun into a vent. He dragged a grappling hook along the rope until it sank into the grate to re-open and clinched itself inside. He glided down the rope, landing away from sensor lights in the floor. He dodged the guards making their rounds by hiding until he reached the alarm box which he disarmed. Rem headed for the display of the emeralds. As he reached for them, lights suddenly flooded the room. Columbini and Laura rushed in.

"Rem!" Laura started to run toward him, but Columbini drew his gun and held it up to her temple.

"Stay where you are." she looked helplessly at Harry.

"All right, Fabrini. Give me the emeralds or your wife dies."

At that moment Cara rushed in and skidded to a halt in front of Harry as a human shied.

"No, Papa, I won't let you-"

"Cara! What are you doing here?" her adopted father snapped.

"I won't let you do this."

"I don't want you in the middle of this. You don't belong here." the mobster added.

"And I can't let you shoot Harry. Yeah, I heard you tell Mario to kill him after you get the emeralds.'

"Which I don't have yet." Columbini pressed the gun against Laura's temple again. "Give it to me, Fabrini."

"Everyone freeze." At that moment three Garda, their guns drawn, swooped into the museum.

"What is going on here?"

"This man is stealing the Skibbereen emerald." Columbini said. Rem put his plan into action.

"I'm so glad you're here, Officers. I'm Remington Steele and I'm actually here to test the security system around the emeralds. I was hired by the museum."

The Garda lowered their guns on Harry. "I've heard of you, Mr. Steele." one of the officers replied. "Sorry, we received a tip that someone was going to steal the emeralds."

As he planned, Rem now had Columbini against a wall. The mobster couldn't tell the Garda that he had planned the robbery without incriminating himself. And since he was the one standing there with a gun...The only problem was that it was still pointed at Laura.

"Put the gun down, sir." one of the Garda said as they all pointed their guns at the mobster. Columbini suddenly started laughing as he lowered the gun.

"There's just one thing I want you to know, Fabrini. The robbery you pulled on me wasn't the only reason I hated you. I hated your father. Chalmers stole my life from me when he stole your mother. I was going to be a respectable businessman so your mother would be proud. You should have been my son. So I stole something important to them—your sister."

Cara gasped at this revelation. Columbini went on. "That is why your father didn't know about her. I made a promise to your mother to take care of her. So I can't let you take her away from me."

"No!" Rem yelled as he darted around Cara and pushed Laura out of the way. The mobster tried to squeeze off a shot, but it went wild and hit the wall. The officers fired and Columbini dropped to the floor, holding his shoulder as blood spurted through his fingers.

"Papa!" Cara tended to her father and pulled off her sweater to push it against the wound to staunch the flow of blood while Rem scrambled over to Laura on his knees and started raining kisses over her face, finally landing on her lips over and over.

""I-told-you-I would-come-back-to-you-even-if-it-was-on-my-knees. I love you, I love you."

"Rem, I love you, too, but could you untie me?"

Remington undid the ties and pulled Laura to him again to press his lips against hers in a kiss that was full of all of the pent up feelings he had been holding inside over the few days he hadn't been with her.

The officers held Columbini and cuffed him. As the Garda started to lead the mobster away, he said,

"Wait. Can I say something to my daughter?" They stopped and Columbini continued, "I do love you, Cara. I've always loved you."

"How can you say that? You took me away from my family. I can't deal with this right now."

"Let's go." Two of the Garda took Columbini out of the museum.

"Laura, I want you to meet my sister, Cara. Cara, Laura."

"Hi, Laura. I'm so glad to finally meet you." To Laura's surprise, Cara hugged her. "Harry has told me a lot about you."

"I look forward to getting to know you, Cara." she paused and then said, "So Harry is his real name?"

"Yes. Harrison Daniel Chalmers."

"Do you know how long I've waited to find out his real name—ever since we met." Laura turned her attention back to Harry. "Were you really going to steal those emeralds?"

"I had to. Columbini was going to kill you if I didn't—until I had that great idea of putting it back on him."

"Mr. Steele, we'll need your statement." the one Garda who had stayed behind said. "And yours, too, Mrs. Steele."

"Can it wait until morning. This has been a long day and I want to get my wife back to the hotel."

"Of course. Go to the O'Connell Street station."

"We will." The Garda left.

"Let's go, Laura." Rem started to walk, but winced again when he landed on his sprained ankle. Laura saw the pain stamped on his face and slid her arms around his waist.

"Help me get him out of here, Cara." Cara also slid her arm around Rem and they walked slowly out of the museum. They took a cab back to the hotel, even though it was only two blocks away. Opening the door to the room, they all entered and found Mildred reading one of her romance novels.

"Mr. Steele! Mrs. Holt-Steele. What's the matter, Mr. Steele?"

"He re-injured his ankle. Here, sit down." Laura and Cara lowered him to the nearest chair.

"I'm all right. I just twisted it." Harry pulled Laura down on his lap. "I'll be fine in a minute. We have some unfinished business to attend to." Rem cupped Laura's face in his hands and kissed her.

"Surely not what I think you're thinking. Your ankle, Harry."

"I don't plan on using my ankle." he rose from the chair and slipped his arm around Laura's waist.

"Good night, Mildred."

He lead Laura into the next room and closed the door.

After making their statements the next day, Rem, Laura and Mildred stayed in Dublin for the next few days while Cara showed them the sights and got to know her brother and sister-in-law.

The Book of Kells at Trinity College. The Georgian doors on Merrion Square. Ha-penny Bridge over the Liffey. The mummified remains of a cat and rat who became trapped behind the organ in Christ Church Cathedral. St. Patrick's Cathedral. National Museum in the daylight. Customs House. O'Connell Street. The General Post Office where they could still the bullet holes from the battle in 1916 which started the fight for Irish independence. Temple Bar.

At the end of their visit, they packed and headed for the airport. As they waited for their plane, they were surprised when Cara came up to them, a carry on and her purse in hand.

"Do you have room for one more?" she asked as she held up her ticket jacket.

"You want to come to Los Angeles with us?" Harry asked. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Nothing to hold me here now."

"But your father-"

"He's out on bail, but I have nothing to say to him now. You're my family. Do you have room in your life for me?"

"We'll make room." Laura hugged her new found sister-in-law.

As they boarded the plane, Rem looked back on last time.

The shadows had faded into the past-where they belonged.

He stepped into the light of a brighter future with a wife and sister by his side.

Author's note:

I'm so sorry this took me so long to write. If I get another idea for a story, I'm going to write it before

I post so I won't do this again. Thank ya'll for being patient with me and I hope it came to a satisfying conclusion.


End file.
